


A Flower of the Vor

by Rose_Milburn



Series: The AU life of Ivan Xav Vorpatril [4]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Other, Vorkosigan Saga AU, Vorkosigan Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-07-10 22:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 90,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15958802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_Milburn/pseuds/Rose_Milburn
Summary: In this AU adventure Ivan Vorpatril has need of Byerly Vorrutyer's assistance. Ivan has been the man of By's dreams but his illusions are shattered when Ivan meets Raine Vorfolse. Who can By turn to? Perhaps the man of By's dreams isn't a man at all...Honour, justice and just a little stroke of good fortune might see By staring into the possibilities of happy ever after.





	1. Wrong place, wrong time

**Author's Note:**

> With grateful thanks for all the original characters created by Lois McMaster Bujold, and a little help from the bard, too. Quotes are from _MacBeth_ and a whole host of Shakespeare's works. See if you can spot them.
> 
> Posting in serial form with a new chapter every few days.

 

 

The queue shuffled forward as the group at the front was shown to a newly vacated table. Byerly Vorrutyer was content to wait in the line, his gaze scanning the crowd to watch his mark without making it obvious. With his tall frame he could see over the heads of most people, and standing in the queue like this he could stay close without having to buy a vastly over-expensive coffee. With any luck the man would leave before By found a table and he could pretend to be tired of waiting. ImpSec expenses didn’t run to coffee at Shoko’s.

On the day after the Imperial Wedding the Great Square was still decked out in all its finery. To one side the looming bulk of The Residence flew rippling standards from every possible high point and some impossible ones as well. The newly repaired statue of Dorca the Great was still wreathed with flowers, as was his horse, with a garland of white roses around his neck to rival the winner of the Vorhartung Derby. All the shops, cafes and government offices lining the square on the other three sides flew more standards, and colourful bunting fluttered everywhere in the afternoon breeze. It was enough to give a man a headache even without the excesses of the day before.

By let his gaze wander idly across the tables again. Most of the faces looked familiar. All the great and the good, _and_ the not-so-good of Barrayar were in the capital for ImpWed and most of them had decided to visit Shoko’s today, and they were in no hurry to leave, or so it seemed. There was one face he knew well. He’d been sitting in her aunt’s lounge room, not so very long ago, trying to annoy Lord Auditor Vorkosigan. Ekaterin Vorsoisson had never taken him seriously, of course. No one ever did. She was lovely, and Miles Vorkosigan had unaccountably won her affection.

The lady with her he didn’t know so well. Valeraine Vorfolse. Who would ever have thought the Vorfolses could have produced anything as gorgeous as that? Ivan Vorpatril was well-smitten, going on what he’d seen at the wedding. That was something very close to impossible to believe, that any woman could finally catch Ivan Vorpatril. By didn’t want to think about that. He’d let himself hope, after watching Ivan evade the matrimonial traps for years. He’d begun to daydream that perhaps, just _perhaps_ , Ivan wasn’t inclined to matrimony, wasn’t inclined that way at all. He’d been fooling himself, he knew, and once he’d seen the two of them together even his faintest hope vanished.

There was movement out in the square. There were hundreds if not thousands of people milling around, but By’s subconscious had registered a man just minutes before, and here he was back again. He was _sweating_ in the cool breeze, ill-at-ease and definitely edgy. The hackles rose on By’s neck as he gave the man his full attention. Something was _not_ right. He followed the suspect’s line of sight. Count and Countess Vorbataille sat with Count and Countess Vorguriyev, but directly in front of _them_ , at the adjacent table, Raine laughed at some remark Ekaterin had made.

By abruptly left the queue and started walking towards the ladies. He hadn’t moved three paces before he saw the man pull something from under his jacket; something lethal. He raised his weapon and shouted just as By bellowed at the top of his voice.

“Ekaterin! Down! Get down!” He dived for the table, knocking it over towards the assassin with the needler gun. He reached round Raine’s waist to pull her off her chair down onto her knees. Ekaterin was further away. All he could do was grab her right arm and haul. The table made very poor cover but he bundled the two of them behind it, Ekaterin on top of Raine and himself on top of the both of them as best he could, all in a tumble of plates and glasses. Ekaterin shrieked in pain and fright as the darts from the needler whined overhead.

“Shit!” By gasped in horror. A lock of dark brown hair, _his hair,_ flopped down to land on the back of his hand, along with shredded greenery from the grape vine. It had been _that_ close. Tentatively he felt his scalp. There wasn’t even a graze. Another few millimetres would have told a different story.

The man, whomever he was, didn’t get a second burst away. Stunner buzzes, like a swarm of angry bees, sounded from at least three different places to add to the pandemonium as the packed café erupted. Chairs and tables crashed to the ground. Glasses and cups smashed to litter the area with razor-sharp shards. People scrambled in every direction, some towards the danger and others away from it. By, for the first time in his life, wished he had a burly physique. He couldn’t spread his scrawny self widely enough to protect both of the women.

“Stay down. Stay where you are. Don’t move.”

He risked a quick glance around the side of the table. There was a body lying in the square with an armsman standing over him, surrounded by an ever-growing crowd of green-uniformed ImpSec troopers. By had only taken a glimpse but it looked like a Vorbataille armsman who had dropped the attacker. What had the man shouted? He couldn’t be sure. He’d been screaming too hard himself to hear anything else. There was something about Barrayar, but that’s all he could remember.

Next to their own huddled pile of arms and legs and heads, Countess Vorbataille moaned in shock as blood ran down her arm. Several people were converging on her to help. By promptly forgot about the countess as he eased himself off Raine and Ekaterin.

“Are you hurt? Did he get either of you?” He rapidly scanned the two of them, still lying on the ground behind the table. Best not start feeling them all over. They might not appreciate that. Raine looked as white as a sheet. Her breath came in short, shocky gasps. She’d probably been winded and was just getting her breath back. She’d been on the bottom of the pile, after all. Her liquid brown eyes were wide and staring with the same shock. All she could do was shake her head at him.

Ekaterin had tears running down her face. She held her right arm with her left and bit her bottom lip in an effort not to cry out loud.

“Blast it! I’m sorry, Madame Vorsoisson. I’ve hurt you.”

By stuck his head up again. “Hey, you!” He shouted at an ImpSec corporal close by. “Find a medic for Lord Vorkosigan’s fiancée. Jump to it!”

He felt a manic grin come to his face as he slipped his arm back around Ekaterin and righted a chair for her to sit on. He felt close to hysterical. “I know, I know, I’m a shameless name-dropper, but if that doesn’t get us some help ASAP nothing will.”

Once he was sure Ekaterin wasn’t going to faint he turned to Raine, who had found her own chair. He took hold of both of her hands. “Big breath and hold it. That’s right, and another one. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

What a singularly useless thing to say. As if _he_ could make any difference to Raine’s safety, but it did seem to calm her a bit.

She managed a weak smile of gratitude. “I should let Ivan know I’m safe. He’s going to be worried when he hears about this.”

The corporal returned at high speed with not just a medtech but General Guy Allegre himself in close company, with two more men towing a float pallet behind that.

“It’s not that bad, just her right arm. Countess Vorbataille might need the pallet.”

General Allegre assessed the scene very rapidly, moved Ekaterin down his list of priorities and nodded, moving off just as quickly to the next hot spot. The medic took more time. Ekaterin rolled up her sleeve for him and tried to smile.

“I just got such a fright. I’m so sorry to cause a fuss. I’m better now, really. There must be other people who need you more that I do.”

The tech smiled at her, talking in a soothing voice as he gently felt for broken bones and ran a scanner over her shoulder joint. “Let me worry about that. I’m following orders, Madame. It won’t take a minute to check you out.”

He brought a soft pack pouch out of his kit and broke the inner vial, mixing a freezing solution almost instantly. Once it was ready he wrapped it round her arm and produced a sling for her. “I can give you a painkiller and some synergine, maybe a half shot?”

She shook her head at him and waved away the sling. “No, it’s quite all right. My shoulder’s not dislocated. This is just what I need.”

By devoutly wished the medic would give _him_ a shot of synergine. He’d never been so shit-scared in his whole life. He let go of Raine’s hand to try and use his wrist com but his fingers shook so badly he had to give up the attempt for the moment. After checking Raine briefly the medic passed on, but not before ordering them to stay exactly where they were.

“Don’t try to leave. There are troopers out there with orders to shoot to kill. Wait for General Allegre to call them off. He’ll want to talk to you all again, too.”

Ekaterin had regained most of her composure after her initial fright. “We’ll wait here. If someone could contact Lord Vorkosigan for me I’d be very grateful.”

“I’ll pass the message, ma’am. If you’ll excuse me.” He bustled off, following a prompt from his ear bud.

By tried his wristcom again. This time his fingers worked but there was no signal. “ImpSec must have shut it down for the moment. Official communications only, I would guess.” He tried to ease the mood, pinning on a happy smile as he looked at them both. “Let’s chat amongst ourselves while we’re waiting. _When shall we three meet again_ , do you suppose?”

Ekaterin snorted with laughter. “ _Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow_ , probably, seeing as there’s not much chance of _thunder, lightning or rain_.”

She was quick. He liked quick wits. Raine wasn’t too slow to join in either. “We’ll be waiting a while. _When the hurlyburly’s done_ , I should think.” She tried her own wristcom. Nothing. “Ivan and Miles are going to be so worried.”

It was another ten or fifteen minutes before By finally managed to get through to Ivan Vorpatril. Before he could even open his mouth Ivan snapped at him. He sounded frantic. “Not _now_ , By. Raine is missing.”

He had to be quick before he cut the com, but he managed to get Ivan’s attention. “Ivan? I’ve got them. They’re both safe. Where are you?”

“By? You’ve got Raine, _and_ Ekaterin?” There was muffled shouting on the other end of the com. Ivan came back to him at last. “They’re safe? You’re sure?”

It took a while to convince Ivan, and it only worked when he gave the com to Raine to talk to him. By finally worked out from what he could hear that Ivan was locked down at Vorkosigan House, but Miles was missing. He dismissed that. Miles would be raising all hell wherever he was. And now that Aral and Cordelia Vorkosigan knew where they were, it wouldn’t take the pair of them long to get them out of here. He heard Countess Vorkosigan talking.

“Bring them back to Vorkosigan House, Byerly. We’ll send an air car.”

They had some more sitting around to do before General Allegre strode back to talk to them. “Vorrutyer. I’ll need you to accompany me to headquarters for questioning.”

_What?_ By opened his mouth to protest, but Ekaterin beat him to it.

“General Allegre, Byerly has just saved both of our lives! He’s an absolute hero. He deserves a commendation, not an inquisition. Countess Vorkosigan has requested him to escort us back to Vorkosigan House to report to the count. I’m sure you’ll be able to reach him there. We’d like to get back as soon as possible and we simply _can’t_ go without Byerly.”

The general blinked in astonishment at the unexpected opposition. He opened his mouth to reply but changed his mind before the sound came out. With another blink he masked his expression and instead looked By directly in the eye.

“You _will_ wait for me at Vorkosigan House, Vorrutyer. I have several other people to debrief and Madame Vorsoisson is obviously more comfortable with your escort. Do _not_ make me come looking for you anywhere else. Is that understood?”

He could have kissed Ekaterin’s feet. She’d saved him from god knew what at ImpSec HQ. Fast-penta, at the very least. He really hated fast-penta. “Of course, General. I wouldn’t dream of it. My word as Vorrutyer.”

By collapsed into a chair when the general left. He held his head in his hands. “Oh, god. ImpSec!” He looked up again to see Ekaterin with a twinkle in her eye.

“ _Thou lily-livered boy_! And after what you just did, too!”

He swiped the back of his hand across his brow in a theatrical gesture, but it was only half acting. General Allegre really had scared him. He could see his hands shaking again. “ _Unnatural deeds breed unnatural troubles_. And of all the unnatural troubles I can think of, an _ImpSec_ interview has to be at the top of the list.”

Ekaterin was having none of it. “ _Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold_. Buck up, By, here comes a sergeant looking very official. I think he’s our fairy godfather come to wave his magic wand and transport us back home.”

The air car ride was very swift, barely a hop and a jump before they landed just behind the count’s ground car, still parked under the porte-cochère at Vorkosigan House. Two armsmen hurried out to escort them inside, first Ekaterin and then Raine. By, acutely conscious of his dishevelled state, followed behind. This wasn’t the way he wanted to come to Aral Vorkosigan’s attention. There was no escape, though. While a frantic Ivan grabbed Raine and Countess Vorkosigan enveloped Ekaterin in a hug, the count sought him out to wring his hand.

“Thank you, Vorrutyer. This is very good of you. We’re in your debt.”

When they were taken through to the library By homed in on the drinks trolley. One of the liveried armsmen handed him a glass of wine and stood with the bottle ready for a refill. By downed the first glass and had it topped up before he turned around. He must look an absolute wreck, but the ladies were no better. Ekaterin’s hair had fallen down her back and Raine’s beautiful Komarran-style suit looked dusty and unkempt. He tried to straighten his hair, at least, but there was a jagged gap in the front where he normally swept it off to one side of his forehead. The reminder upset him all over again.

Once his initial frenzied relief died down and he could bear to part from Raine, Ivan Vorpatril came over to shake his hand. Not for the last time, By suspected, he told the story of what had happened. They were still talking about it when the door opened and Miles Vorkosigan erupted into the room.

Miles’s short stature and wiry-to-the-point-of-thinness frame never made the impact his personality did. His grey eyes blazed with anger and concern in his deathly pale face. Ekaterin had to put up with him checking her all over again. He didn’t listen to a word she said until he found the bruise and cold pack on her arm.

“What’s this? That looks like finger marks! Who did that? What happened?” He whirled in a blaze of fury to glower at them all.

“Guilty, your honour.” By put his hand up. “It seemed like a good idea to get her behind some cover as quickly as I could. I’m sorry I was rough.”

Ekaterin squashed her firecracker fiancé at last. “Miles! I’ve been trying to _tell_ you!” Her version of the story was very similar to By’s. She finished off with a suggestion. “He wouldn’t let us up for ages. You really should thank him, you know.”

_Shit!_ Before he could move By felt himself hauled downwards and enveloped in a huge hug. Miles bounced around like a pea on a drum, back to Ekaterin again. It was exhausting just watching him. It would be nice to sit down round about now. Aral Vorkosigan did his best to calm his son down, but that idiot Ivan Vorpatril had to open his mouth again, just when he thought the attention had been diverted.

“Just what _were_ you doing at Shoko’s? That’s not the sort of place you usually hang out.”

What did he think he’d been doing, the moron? Ivan really needed to learn not to put his foot in it like that. By flicked a quick glance at Miles, devoutly hoping he was a lot quicker on the uptake that his cousin. Ivan realised what he’d done just in time and tried to cover up.

“You went for the gossip, not the coffee, obviously.”

Countess Vorkosigan intervened to smooth over the need for a reply. “Why don’t I take Raine and Ekaterin to get cleaned up? Miles, perhaps you can show By where he can do the same? Pym can help, I’m sure.”

Just what he wanted, an inquisition session with Miles Vorkosigan, but he’d already had one of those, after all, when Dono had had his brush with that vibraknife. His conscience was clear, for once. By let himself be led off, the ubiquitous Pym as escort. Today had not gone as planned, and he still had the joys of General Allegre to come. He muttered to himself as they climbed the stairs.

“I’m seriously getting too old for this shit.”

Pym disappeared ahead of them as they reached the top of the stairs and returned to what must be Miles’s apartments with a robe and a grooming kit. “I’ll do what I can with your suit, sir, if you would like to clean up.”

There was a fairly austere bathroom leading off the bedchamber. By extricated himself from his shape-hugging tunic and trousers. He had to take his boots off first, of course, and Pym collected those as well before he disappeared. After a quick wash By sat in front of a dressing table and looked in dismay at his hair. Miles Vorkosigan caught the significance of the missing chunk quite quickly. He whistled. “It really was a close shave, wasn’t it, By?”

“You have no idea. That needler spray would have missed Ekaterin, though. I actually ended up pulling her towards it, but down. Not that I meant to. It was closer to—” He stopped suddenly. His gaze, looking into the mirror, met that of the Lord Auditor’s. The calculating expression in the grey eyes deepened.

Miles finished his sentence for him. “Raine. It was closer to Raine.”

“Or Count and Countess Vorbataille. They were right behind her. The count wasn’t quite quick enough to pull his lady away in time. The needler caught her arm and shredded the grape vine behind her.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Can you remember what he said?”

“I honestly can’t and I don’t think fast-penta would help my recollection. I was too busy shouting myself. All I heard was something about Barrayar.”

“Guy will get it from the other witnesses. You reckon it was a Vorbataille armsman who took him out?”

“It’s hard to mistake that grey and green. It’s such a vile shade. I’d call it viridian, myself, wouldn’t you?” He tried to resort to his usual glib tone, but it didn’t come out like that at all. He needed to work on that, when he wasn’t quite so freaked out.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Miles didn’t deal in aesthetics, obviously. “Did any of it look staged?”

“Hell, no. He’d worked himself up to it, which is what tipped me off. He was sweating like a pig and his breath was jerky, you know, like he’d been running, only he hadn’t been. I’d seen him about two minutes earlier, walking the other way.”

By took a comb from the set Pym had given him and tried to disguise the short ends.

“Here. Let me.” Miles took the comb from him and picked up a pair of scissors.

By reared back in alarm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Vorkosigan? _You’re_ not going to touch my hair.”

Miles pushed him back into the seat. “Just a spot of grading. Watch. Pym showed me how, one time.”

“Pym? He’s had a military buzz for thirty five years at least. What would he know about fashion?”

Miles did a neat trick with his fingers and By slumped back into his seat. “Ow!”

“Sit still. This won’t hurt a bit.” With the comb on an angle Miles snipped away and feathered the edges of the longer sections, disguising the chunk missing from By's side-swept fringe. It actually didn’t look too bad when he’d finished. There was nothing he could do about it being short, of course. “See? Perfect. Here’s Pym back with your clothes.”

The armsman nodded approval at the result. “You missed your calling, my lord. Vorrutyer’s quite the picture of tonsorial elegance. Don’t you think so, sir?”

By glared at Pym in the mirror. “Tonsorial—” he stopped. He’d caught the gleam in Pym’s eye. The armsman was having some fun at _his_ expense. “Quite so.” He stood and held out his hands for his suit. “Thank you very much for the help, Pym. I really appreciate it. It just doesn’t _do_ to appear in public quite so…disarranged. Not until nearly dawn, anyway.”

Pym sank to one knee. “Allow me, sir.” He held out the trousers for By to step into, then waited with the tunic while he fastened them up. He eased the sleeves up to his shoulders and smoothed the fabric over his back. “Not a wrinkle to be seen.”

There was something to be said for having a valet. By’s boots looked miraculously restored to good order; he’d feared the scuffs on the toes were going to prove fatal when he’d first noticed them. His thanks as Pym slid them on were a shade more fervent this time. New boots would have been an expense he really couldn’t afford. Not from where he usually bought them, anyway.

Miles interrupted them. “Let’s get back downstairs. There might have been more news come in.”

It only took the vaguest of suggestions, like hovering near the drinks trolley with a hopeful look on his face for Miles to take the hint and pour another drink. By stood to one side and watched as Miles summed up Aral Vorkosigan’s stance with Ivan Vorpatril, cast his mind back for clues and rapidly come to same conclusion they had upstairs, that it had been Raine Vorfolse who’d been in danger. It was fascinating to watch him at work. There was a no-question genius hidden in that short body.

General Allegre, some time later, wasn’t quite so fascinating. By tried to escape his obvious disapproval but the count called him back. It was a shock to think the great man thought _he_ could help with anything, but being a part of the inner circle was too much of an honour to pass up, even if he could never gossip about it. He could do some leg work for them, perhaps. He was good at that.

It was a _horrible_ shock, later, to be forced to sit beside Countess Vorkosigan at dinner. Even the unheard of treat of a Ma Kosti dinner didn’t quite make up for it. He’d rather face General Allegre any day. Hell, he’d rather face a lunatic with a needler gun. He’d managed to do that and come out with credit. _He could do this_.

 

 


	2. Babysitting

 

 

By’s comconsole chimed. He jerked awake. It was barely dawn, some ungodly hour of the early morning. His muscles protested their unexpected exercise from the day before as he tried to move. His right shoulder ached the worst, where he’d forcibly shifted Ekaterin, hauling her entire weight with that arm. He winced as he felt the sore muscles. He wasn’t hero material. He’d much rather leave that sort of thing to Ivan Vorpatril. Ivan did _dashing_ far better than anyone else he knew. His own head ached and his empty stomach churned with bile and the dregs of the filthy drug he’d laughingly shared the night before. He’d hardly been to bed, or so it seemed. He’d stood for a good twenty minutes in the shower, scrubbing every taint off his flesh. Sometimes life sucked, and sometimes life sucked even worse.

He rolled out to answer the persistent chime, trying to get rid of the gunk from his eyes before answering.

 _Aral Vorkosigan_. In person. Not even an armsman or a secretary or anything. _Shit_. “My Lord Count. This is a surprise.”

Aral didn’t mince his words. “It looks like it. Get sober, get some clothes on and get over here. I’ll expect you in two hours. I have a little job I want you to do for me, Vorrutyer. Oh, and pack for a stay in a District house. Maybe three of four days. I’ve cleared it with Guy Allegre.”

What was worse, working for Aral Vorkosigan, or going to a District? What District house? In Hassadar? He’d never been to Hassadar. They ate boiled cabbage and rye bread there, he’d heard. He was supposed to be spending the morning wine-tasting for Ivan Vorpatril. That was a job much more suited to his taste. Was he going to turn down Aral Vorkosigan, though? Like hell he was. He wasn’t _that_ suicidal. Not yet.

“Um, yes, sir. Can you tell me what this is about?”

“When you get here. I’ll send an armsman for you. Don’t want you getting lost, do we? There’ll be a medtech from ImpSec here, too, but don’t worry about that, Vorrutyer. I won’t let you come to any harm. Not permanent, anyway.”

There was an evil gleam in his eye when he cut the com. By sat and stared at the blank screen. If it had been anyone else, he’d have thought they were pulling his leg, but _Aral Vorkosigan_?

He was wasting time. What did one wear for a few days in the country, and at this time of year, too? Decisions, decisions.

The first course of action was to sharpen up his wits. He’d vomited up all the crap he’d swallowed the night before as soon as he’d got home. Marcel Vorevreaux’s new line of trade was even more vile than the last one. That bastard was going down big time just as soon as he accumulated enough evidence, but Marcel was as sly as he was corrupt and it was proving harder than he’d thought. Still, there was _some_ good to come out of it. If he hadn’t been following the slimeball yesterday things might have gone very differently for Ekaterin and Raine.

By headed for his shower, but not before drinking nearly a litre of water. If he couldn’t throw it up he’d have to try and piss it out. Twenty minutes later he stood in front of his wardrobe. He just didn’t _do_ country conservative. There was one suit that, for him, was quite severely cut. He pulled it out to wear immediately, and chose another outfit he’d dubbed _industrialist chic_ when he talked to his tailor. Perhaps he could get away with only taking five shirts. Surely they had laundry facilities where they were going. Some loose knits, underwear and his toiletries and he was done.

Everything was clean, dry and neat before the armsman came. He’d put fresh sheets on the bed, turning in the corners precisely and popping the old sheets and his towels through the launderiser. He left the bathroom exactly the way he wanted to come home to it, and put away everything in the tiny kitchen, too. His whole apartment would have fitted into Miles Vorkosigan’s yellow sitting room, but it was all his, or would be when he finally finished paying off the mortgage. Did he need to sweep or mop the floors? No, he’d done that yesterday. Everything was as neat as a pin. _Under control._

There was a buzz at his door com. By picked up his valise and headed off to meet his fate. The armsman, Jankowski, took the valise from his hand and stowed it in the capacious boot of the count’s distinctive groundcar. He was surprised it had fitted in the little Caravanserai backstreet By lived on, but Jankowski had made it work somehow. He did have to back out, though, with the help of an obliging municipal guardsman who directed the traffic for them. By indulged himself in a little fantasising, where even the municipal guardsmen were at his beck and call, but he preferred his simple reality to Aral Vorkosigan’s trammelled existence. His head was more likely to stay on his shoulders that way.

They were soon at Vorkosigan House and By was shown into Aral’s study. The promised medtech was waiting for him there. There was no sign of a fast-penta set, though. By heaved a huge sigh of relief when he realised.

Aral stood to shake his hand and wave him to a seat. “Let’s get the formality done and Corporal Avery here can be about his business. General Allegre requests and requires a DNA sample from you, Vorrutyer, as you’re the only one of your family we can round up at short notice. Dono has taken his new fiancée over to his District and Richars is otherwise engaged at the moment at His Imperial Majesty’s remand centre.”

Was that all? By opened his mouth for the cheek swab and held out a finger for a pinprick blood sample. Two minutes later it was all done and the medtech departed on his merry way. By watched him go then turned back to the count. “Have you found a body somewhere? A long lost relative, perhaps?”

Aral Vorkosigan shook his head. “We’re sincerely hoping we won’t find a body. Not a live one, anyway.” His eyes turned bleak for a moment. “It was a distinct lapse on Negri’s part not to have checked in the first place, or if he did there’s no record of any results.”

Negri? By’s ears pricked up. This was old business then, back to the very early days of the Regency, or even earlier, when Admiral Vorkosigan had saved the Escobar fleet. Negri had been dead for thirty years. The only Vorrutyers of note back then had been old Count Dono, Lord Pierre and… _shit_ …his Uncle Ges.

“You’re quick. I’ll give you that.” Aral had obviously been watching the expressions on his face. “Yes, we’re concerned about confirming the existence or otherwise of a bastard child of your uncle.”

“I…” By paused, trying out the best way to say what he was thinking. “Family legend has it that Ges Vorrutyer was highly unlikely to have fathered a child. Not the conventional way, anyhow.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t have been conventional. He did attempt to rape at least one female enemy combatant that we know of, and there could have been more before his career was…truncated.”

He had a nice way with words. By approved, but they weren’t here for chitchat. Aral pressed a button on his desk and an armsman appeared with coffee and spiced bread. “I’m guessing you didn’t manage breakfast. Help yourself,” he said.

By waited for the armsman to pour him a steaming mug, and added milk to suit. He took an approving sip. Nothing but the best in this house. He settled back and prepared to listen.

“Now, Vorrutyer, my nephew Ivan is going to need some help. He’s on his way up to the transfer station as we speak to see Raine Vorfolse off to Beta. He’s not going to be in the best frame of mind when he gets back. Normally in a family situation I’d ask Miles to look out for him, but he’s on the Emperor’s business just now. Truth to tell, it’s usually the other way around with Ivan hauling Miles’s butt out of the fire, but this time it’s different. I want you to meet him at the shuttleport, take him straight back to Voralys House and keep him there. If you can minimise the damage so much the better. I don’t expect the impossible, though. You’ll accompany him when we pick him up tomorrow morning to go to Voralys District. Once we get him there your job will be done unless you choose to hang around.”

Babysitting. Aral Vorkosigan wanted him to babysit Ivan Vorpatril. “Actually, sir, Ivan had a job for me to do today, as well. He wants his wine cellar restocked. What time does he get back?”

“Eighteen hundred hours. You should have time to do both, and if there’s something to stop Ivan trying to go out again so much the better. I’ll send Pym with you for the pickup. Not too many people can outsmart Pym and I very much doubt Ivan would be one of them.”

By suppressed a smile. Aral Vorkosigan was supposed to be a very good judge of people. Of course he’d know his nephew’s character and intelligence inside and out. Before he could comment Aral went on. “Ivan’s a good man, loyal beyond question and a strong and capable organiser. He’s been mortally careful to avoid anything resembling initiative since the day he was born. It’s been a very successful strategy for him, much to his mother’s disgust. We don’t want him developing it now. Keep him safe for me, Byerly, and I’ll be very grateful.” His smile was blinding.

By blinked and swallowed hard. Miles Vorkosigan couldn’t hold a candle to his father when it came to charisma. He’d have walked to Komarr and back if Aral asked him to do it. He heard himself stammer as he replied. “O…of course, sir. A…anything I can do for you would be my pleasure.”

Aral stood up to clap him on the shoulder and shake his hand. “Good man. I really appreciate this, Vorrutyer. You’re turning out to be a useful person to have around. I won’t forget it. I’ll hand you over to Pym now, and he can make the arrangements. He can drop you off at our usual wine merchants and take your things on to Voralys House to let them know you’re coming. If the sight of the Vorkosigan groundcar doesn’t get you a good discount with Grillet’s I’ll want to know why. I’ll see you again tomorrow, Vorrutyer.”

It was slightly surreal, sitting in Grillet’s and having the chief sales manager fawn over him. Pym had accompanied him inside to introduce him to Monsieur Farouche, and Farouche had taken the not-so-subtle hint without a blink. By hadn’t bought so much as a bottle here before. It had always been above his touch, but he was happy to discover there was a first time for everything. Some minion even appeared with a tray of cheese and biscuits to cleanse the palate between tastings. By sighed as he sat back. It was a rotten job, but somebody had to do it.

It took him a good three hours, but finally a float van was loaded with over thirty cases of wine and sent off with another pair of minions to oversee the correct unpacking and storage. By definitely didn’t need any lunch so he took himself off for only a slightly wobbly walk to get some fresh air and clear the alcohol from his head. He wasn’t due back at Vorkosigan House to rendezvous with Pym until seventeen hundred hours. He could walk home, have a sleep and still be ready with time to spare. Too much had happened in the past few weeks that still needed thinking about. By paused on his way across the Star Bridge to lean on the stone parapet and gaze into the water. He never walked this way without remembering a much younger Byerly, cast on his wits to live or die. One way or another he’d scraped his way through. It had been close though, that one time he’d thought the river might have been a better solution. A perfect stranger had changed the course of his life then, offered him a meal and a hot drink and a bed for the night. There’d been a string attached, of course. There was always a string attached to kindness…

Dono would miss him now, though, and even Ivan wouldn’t let him come to such desperate straits. By’s brush with the Emperor’s disfavour was still too recent for him to be completely comfortable again. That had been his own stupid fault. He’d been wickedly fascinated with his cousin Donna’s transformation and perhaps had got a tad carried away trying to help her. Him. Trying to help _him_. Donna had been so brave. She could have taken her chances and left Richars and the District to their own devices, but she’d stood up against that, stood up against what was so wrong. There were a few million people in Vorrutyer’s District about to wake up to a decent future, and that was down to Ivan, and to Olivia Koudelka. It would be interesting now to see what Ivan did with his own District.

By pushed away from the parapet and resumed his walk. Yes, it might not be such a bad thing, going down to New Sheffield and checking out what Ivan was up to.

 

Crowds streamed through the shuttleport. So many happy reunions made By feel slightly nauseous. He spotted Ivan at last, with a dour ImpSec captain on his heels. Ivan wasn’t in the mood for small talk. There was a bleak look in his eyes. By knew the feeling well. He would have walked right past him if he hadn’t said something. As it was he just sulked anyway. Ivan wasn’t much used to making the best of things. Pym and the groundcar were waiting in the VIP parking spot. Ivan sulked all the way back to Voralys House and he was even brave enough to be rude to Pym, although he realised that mistake just in time. His ImpSec minder wandered off to the ready room to put his feet up until Ivan headed out again. By was left in the hall to entertain him. It was pretty easy. All he wanted was a bottle of wine or three. All his careful choosing that morning was wasted. It was like casting pearls before swine. At least By enjoyed the first bottle with his one drink to Ivan’s five. After the second bottle Ivan started talking.

“You know, Byerly, Raine has the most beautiful hair.” He waved his hands around towards his knees. “All the way down her back. She uses this shampoo…It’s scented with Escobaran Moon flowers. Can you dream smells? I can smell it when I’m dreaming. This is a fucking nightmare, though.”

“I’m beginning to think that way myself.” By tried to distract him. “I had the most terrible time trying to choose what to wear in New Sheffield. I _agonised_ over it. Do they have regional costumes over there? The locals sometimes wear little lace caps in Vorrutyer’s District, or they did when I was a boy. I haven’t been back there in twenty years.”

Ivan looked at him in bleary astonishment. “You _chose_ that get up? I thought everything else must have been at the cleaners.”

“Now you’ve hurt my feelings. This is the latest crack of fashion, for your information. _Austere minimalism for the sybarite_. That’s why the shirt is silk, don’t you know? You should always have silk next to your skin.”

Ivan’s look of horrified fascination would have been funny under other circumstances. “Austere what? That’s a crock of shit. Pass the bottle.”

By had to call for help to haul Ivan up the stairs to his bedroom. His shoulder was still sore and he didn’t fancy a matching pair. With the valet’s help they got him onto the bed. He grinned up at them stupidly, almost like he’d been given a shot of fast-penta. He didn’t even try to undo his buttons. “G’night, By. Take care.”

The valet pulled his boots off and By extricated him from his tunic and trousers. Ivan was just conscious, but barely, his eyes flickering in the effort to see who was talking to him. His shirt was harder to remove, with the tight buttons on his wrists. By gave up trying to get some pyjamas on him.

“Come on, Ivan, get under the covers, or you’ll get cold. I need to find my own bed, unless you’d like me to share?”

Ivan sniggered. By stood looking down at him. In his fantasies some times he’d done just that. His Uncle Ges wouldn’t have hesitated, he knew. He had never been big on consent.

“You’re lucky I’m not another member of my family.” He allowed himself just one memory, gently combing Ivan’s hair away from his face. By’s guard was down, he knew. He felt sudden tears prick his eyes as he trailed his fingers down across Ivan’s chin, rough under his fingers where the stubble had started to grow. No, anything more would be a liberty. Ivan had made his choice and By wasn’t it. He stood up straight and went to the bathroom to fetch a large glass of water and place it on the nightstand. A bucket would probably be useful too, but the bedroom didn’t run to that. He made sure Ivan lay on his side with pillows wedged behind him to stop him rolling on to his back. Asphyxiating in his own vomit would be a nasty way to go.

With a sigh and one last look, By gently shut the door. The valet was waiting for him. Had he seen? Too bad if he had.

“Your room is this way, sir,” was all he said.

 _To Sleep, Perchance to Dream._ By let himself be led off. Tomorrow was another day. Ivan was just going to love a two hour trip in a lightflyer, if he ever made it that far. _Serve him right_.

On that charitable thought By took himself off to bed.

 

 


	3. Out and about

 

 

When the New Sheffield city band started up with a dramatic clash of cymbals Byerly Vorrutyer thought he was going to laugh himself sick. The look on Ivan’s face was utterly, utterly priceless as his complexion turned from white to a delicate shade of eau-de-nil. The Imperial air car had landed in the main square, outside the District residence and offices. There was a large crowd gathered, and the cheering started as Count and Countess Vorkosigan exited the vehicle. The noise increased as Ivan stood in the hatchway.

“Courage, mon brave, en avant.” By spoke close to Ivan’s ear, otherwise he would never have heard him. Truth to tell he was a bit taken aback himself. It was a vociferous welcome. Aral and Cordelia had moved off to greet the crowd, who were standing eight to ten deep around three sides of the square behind the roped off ImpSec cordon. By waited for Ivan to take a deep breath and stride out before following him. He walked on Ivan’s left side, away from the crowds, but even then they all welcomed him as well, just like he was important or something. By had never seen anything like it. All the smiling and cheering was infectious, though. He tried a little wave and people waved back. He tried a bow to an old couple and was cheered for it. Talk about basking in reflected glory.

Ivan had stopped and after a few moments called him over to meet another older lady he introduced as Madame Walton, widow of the armsman who had helped dispose of Vorclarence. She actually curtsied to him. It was the first time anyone had curtsied to him in his entire life. It was…humbling, and not something he wanted repeated. Ivan’s ImpSec minder, Captain Fenerty, shooed them back into line before he could say anything very much. By was beginning to dislike Fenerty. He suspected the feeling was entirely mutual.

They reached the little dais outside the District office at last, and Aral Vorkosigan called on Ivan to make a speech. He looked like a wild animal caught in a ground car’s driving lights, totally panicked, before he pulled himself together. By couldn’t help snickering at the spectacle of Ivan Vorpatril front and centre, all the attention on him and no one to hide behind. Ivan heard him laughing, he could tell. So much the better. It might stop him getting too swell-headed. No, that wasn’t fair on Ivan. He wasn’t conceited, and he really, really hadn’t wanted this job. It was still surprising what a good show he was making of it. As long as he didn’t vomit again, of course.

They reached the house at last and Ivan introduced him to the local ImpSec man, Major Karasavas. By was swiftly summed up and found wanting in the major’s eyes.He was good at concealing his feelings but By could tell. He could _always_ tell. It was a good thing, as far as By was concerned, as it was much easier to stay under the radar that way. Long may the major go on underestimating him. All the world didn’t need to know his business.

After lunch he was free to unpack and explore the house while Aral, Cordelia and Ivan strategised. The old, Time of Isolation building had been erected with safety rather than comfort in mind, but there were lots of modern touches that met with his approval. The guest suites had been retro-fitted with shower rooms, and there was a luxurious bathroom at the end of the hall if he wanted to wallow in a bathtub. The plumbing looked to be up to spec, too, unlike Vorkosigan House, not that he’d ever stayed there. He’d heard the stories.

There was a library on the ground floor, lined with leather-bound volumes. If there was one thing he missed in his tiny apartment it was space to store books. It didn’t look like many of these had been opened in decades, although they had all been off the shelves recently as they were replaced in higgledy-piggledy order, some even stacked on their sides, highly objectionable to By’s sense of propriety. Probably some ham-handed ImpSec goons had rifled the place not so long ago. The beautiful volumes were crying out for attention. It would give him something to do until dinner time.

Ivan found him perched at the top of the spiral ladder, rearranging books into alphabetical order on the top shelf. He stood back to watch for a minute before saying anything. “You know, By, when I asked you to work for me, I didn’t mean it to be slave labour. There are well-paid minions for that sort of work. We’re just about to have some tea. Would you care to join us?”

By carefully lined up the last of the books he’d sorted for that shelf. “I could do with some tea, but you might want to take a closer look at some of these books, Ivan.”

He climbed down the ladder and held out a slim wad of currency. “Hundred mark notes. Stashed in _Titus Andronicus_. Nobody ever reads Titus Andronicus. _He that had wit would think that I had none, to bury so much gold under a tree, and never after to inherit it._ ”

“Thanks, By. Vorclarence certainly didn’t have wits enough to think twice about being a traitor. Anything you find goes back to the District.” He flipped through the notes. “Phew. There must be a thousand marks here, at least. Not a bad afternoon’s work.” He handed back one of the notes. “Spotter’s fee.”

By put his hands behind his back. “You’re paying me already. Wait until I find something really good, if you want to give me a reward. And don’t these shelves look better already?”

Ivan shrugged. “If you say so. I hadn’t really noticed them. Vorberg and Karasavas searched the place after Vorclarence vacated, but they were looking for—” He broke off suddenly. “Never mind what they were looking for, but it wasn’t books. Anyway, come on into the dining room. Pym is serving tea and cake.”

 _Pearls before swine_. Honestly, Ivan Vorpatril didn’t deserve to own these treasures. No doubt they’d been wasted on Vorclarence, too. By took himself off to have tea. He could come back later.

Dinner that night was rather underwhelming, compared to Ma Kosti’s brilliance. Ivan peered dubiously at his pea and ham soup as it was served. He was too fussy. Food was food and as long as it was edible and free By didn’t complain. Anything was better than rat bars or reddi-meals. When it came to the main course, roast leg of lamb, he watched Cordelia pass on the meat and stick to the steamed vegetables. He hadn’t actually noticed if she’d eaten the soup. At this rate she was going to end the meal still hungry. _Someone_ needed to have a word to the cook. Time of Isolation cooking was fine in the Time of Isolation, but most places in the whole of the rest of Barrayar had moved on.

After two early mornings in a row By retired to bed before midnight, something almost unheard of in Vorbarr Sultana. He’d been reading a gloriously illustrated book of what was somewhat euphemistically called _fairy stories_ in the library. Gothic horror was more like it, with the Baba Yaga grinding babies’ bones and misbehaving children being skinned alive by nameless creatures. Perhaps it wasn’t bed time reading, even for a mature man on the downhill slide to forty. It was all quite unnerving. He wasn’t used to the country air, being on his best behaviour in front of the count and countess _or_ the quiet. He found his never-used stunner and slid it under his pillow, just in case. He spent the first hour in the ancient bed listening to every creak and groan in the old building. There was no traffic, no late night revellers and no streetlights. When he did hear footsteps in the hall his heart missed a beat. He leapt out of bed so quickly it made his head spin. He wrenched the door open, stunner in hand. A startled Vorkosigan armsman whirled back, dropped to the ground and had his own stunner drawn faster than lightning. Of course there would be a night guard for the two counts. By felt remarkably foolish. He held both hands up.

“Sorry, sorry. I must have been dreaming.”

Armsman Rykov levered himself back up and replaced his weapon in its holster. “No harm done, sir. If it would make you feel better I’d be happy to check under your bed for you?”

By drew himself up to his full height. The blood of Pierre Le Sanguinaire flowed in his veins and the hot Vorrutyer anger clamoured for retribution but he bit back the sharp retort he was about to make and confined himself to, “that won’t be necessary, now that I know it’s _you_ out here. Thank you all the same.”

By looked around him dim bedroom. It wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look under the bed and in the wardrobe before he crawled back between the covers. He forced himself not to pull the sheets completely over his head.

It seemed like he’d only just closed his eyes when there was a tremendous crash on his door. Startled wide awake he caught his foot in the sheet as he tried to roll out of bed and ended up on the floor in a disordered heap. “Ow!” He rolled over to rub his elbow.

It was Ivan’s voice. “It’s eleven hundred hours, By. Are you never going to get up?”

Damn, he’d slept in. By struggled up to pile into the shower. He was half dressed before he thought to look at his chrono. 0730. _0730?_ 0730? The bastard! He’d done that on purpose.

There were only the two of them in the breakfast room. By flounced over to a chair and glowered at Ivan. “You’re a sadist, Voralys.”

Ivan just snickered and wouldn’t listen to his complaints. By waited for the armsman to pour his coffee. “And after all I’ve done for you, listening to you moaning on when you were drowning your sorrows.”

“Yeah, about that night.” Ivan looked very uncomfortable. He fidgeted with his plate and cup. “What you said, By…”

Damn. He’d remembered. How could he pass this off? By took a moment to stir his own coffee. “I was drunk, Ivan.”

“In vino veritas?”

Couldn’t he just leave it? He didn’t have to rub it in. Two could play the latin quote game, even if he had been thrown out of every school in Vorbarr Sultana. “Obliviscamur, quae dixi.”

Ivan’s tone turned kind. “I can’t forget it, By. I hope you find someone you can be happy with, though. I need you to understand it’s not going to be me.”

By couldn’t handle kind. And then Ivan _apologised._ Could it get any worse? How soon could he get out of here? He couldn’t look at him. “You don’t have to be sorry, Ivan. It’s the story of my life.”And that was nothing but the bitter, bitter truth. By felt the bile rise up in his throat.

Ivan persisted. “I’m not sorry for turning you down. That was never going to happen. I’m sorry for what else I said. I think you actually know all about facing adversity with courage.”

Even death was preferable to this. If the floor could have opened up and swallowed him it still wouldn’t be a hole big enough. There was more to come. Ivan finally gave him another job to do. He was back on firmer ground here, back to what he could do well. Another thing he could well, too, was yank Ivan’s chain. Just a little bit. Revenge was sweet, after all. He had the very thing. _Escobaran Moon flowers_. He left Ivan fuming.

It was a fine day. After another hour in the library and a quick chat in passing to Count and Countess Vorkosigan By went for a stroll around the main square, then ventured further afield. The sun shone down on him, he had money in his pocket and no one was breathing down his neck. There was an old bar that he really should call a pub, just off to the north, on a side street. _The Wheatsheaf_. How quaint. Not likely to be a wine bar, though. He could drink beer if he really, really had to, but maybe after lunch. He went back to the square and found a cafe.

The waiter’s eyes opened wide when he settled himself at a vacant table under the shade of a blue umbrella. “You were with the count, yesterday. I saw you.”

He sounded almost accusing. By eyed hime somewhat warily. “Yes, I was. Is that a problem?”

“ _No_ , sir! I’ll just fetch the boss.” The man shot off as if he’d been scalded. It would have been much nicer if he’d just asked what he’d wanted, first. By sighed. Celebrity status wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

The _boss_ turned out to be an older woman. By would have guessed late forties but in this benighted place she could have been ten years younger. He saw her smoothing her hair as she hurried out. “Good morning, sir. This is such an honour. Would you be Lord Vorrutyer?”

He stood to shake her hand. “That would be my as yet unborn cousin. I’m just Vorrutyer. Byerly Vorrutyer.”

She bobbed a curtsey. Was everyone going to do that round here? “I’m Mrs Percy. We saw you on the newsvids, with Count Voralys. Someone said you were Vorrutyer, but we didn’t know anything more.”

By sat down again. “Believe me, ma’am. There’s nothing more to know. I work for the count, but today is my day off. What local delicacy can you recommend for my morning break?”

She took the hint. “Toasted tea cake is very popular, sir. It’s a spiced bread with currants and sultanas in it, served with butter.”

“Excellent. Just the thing. With a mac, please. No, make that a flat white.”

She looked at him dubiously. “Would that be a coffee, sir?”

He tried not to shudder. “Yes, coffee, with hot milk, not frothed. Do you grind your own beans?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer, but she surprised him.

“For any friend of the count, sir, I’d _grow_ my own beans, if they’d let me. Yesterday was the best day’s trading I’ve had since we opened. He’s going to be so good for the District. Would you like Arabica or Robusta?”

It worked out perfectly after that. It was all in the translation, By realised. They didn’t speak standard Barrayaran English, much like they didn’t speak standard Barrayaran French in his home District. _Tea_ was the vastly preferred drink of choice in the morning, and coffee in the afternoon. His outlandish Vorbarr Sultana ways had thrown her. They actually made excellent coffee at _The Tea Kettle._ He should have looked at the name before he sat down, of course. Toasted tea cake wasn’t all that different to the spiced bread he was used to, either. He’d know for next time.

There was another slight misunderstanding when he came to pay. It was close to impossible to extract a bill from the waiter, or the proprietor when he was forced to appeal to her. Back in Vorbarr Sultana he wouldn’t have thought twice about a free meal, but this was different. He’d read the briefings on the way down in the light flyer, and how desperately poor these people were. The more money Ivan could pump back into the economy the better.

“I need a receipt for my expenses, and the count has left the _strictest_ of instructions that we are to pay for everything. I understand your wonderfully generous gesture, madame, but if we’re to stamp out corruption everything has to be seen to be above board. If you please, Mrs Percy.”

She still looked doubtful. “It’s not the way things work round here. The count _owns_ this building.”

He was going to have to do a Vor. He stood straight and spoke in a chilly tone. “Madame, Count Voralys would _never_ use his position to extort anything from you and by extension, that applies to his staff. It’s utterly dishonourable to even suggest it.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Oh, no, sir. I never meant it like that.” She quickly processed his credit chit and gave him a receipt. She looked at him dubiously. “I hope you’re not offended, sir?”

He smiled the smile that he’d often used to good advantage. Ivan wasn’t the only one who could do that. “Of course not, now that we understand each other. Hopefully I’ll see you again before I leave New Sheffield.”

It was the same in _The Wheatsheaf_. Everyone wanted to buy him a drink, instead of the other way around. They were mostly older men here at this early afternoon time of day, retired and previously-resigned patrollers brought back to duty by Ivan’s wholesale terminations of Vorclarence’s corrupt municipal guard. By was swimming in beer before he at last managed to stand a round. As the sun headed down the opinions started to come out. The boldest among the locals began to tell tales of the old count. It was not very edifying listening. By was strongly reminded a few times of his cousin Richars. This wasn’t the point though. They all pretty much knew how bad Vorclarence had been. He tried to find out their opinions of Ivan.

“I saw him running through the square this morning,” someone remarked. “I was just coming off night shift. I didn’t see _you_ there, though.”

“Fast asleep in my bed like a sensible person.” By sipped at his fourth beer, acutely aware of the pressing need to empty his bladder.

Another man continued. “Scared half to death, I was, and me a patroller. It reminded me of one of Vorclarence’s goon squads, but they weren’t armed, not that I could see. At least he’s fit, this new count. Still has some energy. Not fat and lazy, like the old one. And he’s a hero. We all saw the newsvids, how he saved the Emperor.”

It was no good. He had to go find the men’s room. Just as he came back into the front bar he saw all the men at his table sit straight up and stare at the street door. Another man had just walked in. The body language set all his antennae bristling and he stood back into the short hallway to avoid being seen. Something wasn’t good.

The newcomer glanced once at the table and ignored them. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and it looked like he’d slept in his clothes. He walked up to the bar and slapped his hand on the counter. “Beer.”

“Only if you pay for it, Darian. Times have changed.” The barkeeper looked nervous, but he didn’t flinch.

The man called Darian placed both his hands flat down on the counter and leaned over to eyeball the barkeeper. “Times have changed all right, and if you thought I was a nightmare when I was shift commander you haven’t seen anything yet, Lewis. Do I get that beer, or don’t I?”

By strode into the room. “It was good of you to identify yourself, former shift commander Darian. There are six witnesses to your obnoxious behaviour. I trust you aren’t about to make us all witnesses to a criminal act.”

Darian whirled around to stare at him. His eyes widened as he took in By’s less-than-conventional clothing and hairstyle. “What the hell are you? Something the cat dragged in?”

By narrowed his eyes and spoke quietly. “I’m your worst nightmare, if you choose that path. As the barkeeper said, times have changed. If you want a beer you pay for it, but he’s well within his rights to refuse to serve anyone acting in an aggressive manner.”

One of the patrollers at the table spoke up. “Let it rest, Darian. You got what you deserved. This gentleman works for Count Voralys. You don’t want to go messing with him.”

Darian gave a derisive snort. “Gentleman? I’ve dealt with his sort before.”

“No doubt in a back alley with a shockstick. I’ve dealt with _your_ sort before, too, Darian.” By had no time for bullies like this. “Pay up or get out.”

Darian pulled some coins from his pocket and threw them on the counter. He said nothing, retiring to a table in the opposite corner to glower over his glass. By rejoined his new friends.

“The honest traders around here are going to need support to deal with the likes of him. The count isn’t going to stand for this sort of behaviour. I take it he was one of the ones dismissed from the municipal guard?”

“He was, and good riddance. Don’t let his appearance fool you, sir. He must have enough dirty money stashed away to keep himself very nicely. I’m surprised he’s still hanging around these parts.”

“Now that’s he’s come to light I doubt he will be.” By looked over at the other table. “I’ll have a word to Major Karasavas.”

“The sooner we get a new guard commander the better,” one of the patrollers mentioned. “There’s no guidance from the top as yet, and most of us are too old to be taking initiatives now. We keep the streets safe at night, best we can. People like Darian are someone else’s problem.”

“That someone is the count. Make a report and give it to Major Karasavas. I’m sure you’ll have a new commander soon. That’s what we’re here for, after all.”

As he left to head back to the District house By saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye. Darian had decided to leave as well. Was he going to try and make a move? More fool him, if he was. By stood at the doorway of the pub, working out the safest way back. One of the patrollers appeared by his side, then a second later another one came up behind him.

“We’ll just walk back with you, sir. You never know who you might run across in this part of the town.”

It was unexpected, but it was welcome. Getting his hands dirty hadn’t been on the agenda for the day. By stored away the gesture for his report. Ivan had a few good men working for him, it seemed.

 

 


	4. Something to care about

 

 

They hadn’t walked five hundred metres before one of the patrollers touched his arm. “Could we have a private word, sir?”

His heart sank. By had fallen for that kind gesture ploy hook, line and sinker. He might have known. _Shit_. Even here. More disappointed than he should have been he sucked in a deep breath. There was no such thing as a free lunch. He kept walking towards the District house. “Start talking. If I don’t like what I hear I’ll keep on walking right up the front steps to the house. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir, it is. We haven’t told you our names before this. I’m Chalmers. This is McMillan. Count Voralys made a great start cleaning up this town, but we think there’s been a bit of collateral damage. Armsmen Sheridan and Chalmers. They were with Armsman Walton, the ones who wouldn’t kill the Lord Auditor. They’re good men.”

“Chalmers, eh? Hardly a coincidence.”

“No, sir. He’s my younger brother. I know him inside and out. He’s a loyal man.”

“What has all this got to do with me?”

“We thought…I thought you might be able to put in a good word with the count, sir. There’s Bart Walton’s son, too. He’s finishing up his twenty in the Imperial Rangers any time now. Waltons have always been District armsmen. Five generations back. They’d all want to work for the new count.”

They’d reached the far side of the square by now. By saw a figure in the distance, just turning in to the residence past the ImpSec security. “Pym! Armsman Pym! Hold up. Could I talk to you, please?”

Pym turned back to see who was shouting his name. He carried a large parcel in his arms. By hurried up to reach him. “Been shopping, Pym?”

“Vat protein, sir, for the countess.”

“Ah. I thought _somebody_ needed to have a word to the cook. We could wait here, Pym, if you wanted to drop that off. The two patrollers here won’t have clearance to go into the residence. We need your help.”

Pym summed them up with a quick appraisal. He nodded. “Very well, sir. I can see it looks serious. I’ll be right back.”

He doubled up the steps and disappeared inside. In only a very few minutes he returned and moved them all out of earshot of the gate guards. “Now, what is all this about?”

Chalmers repeated his story. Pym didn’t take long to make up his mind. “Are the two of them still in detention?”

“CB, last I heard.”

By rolled his eyes at Chalmers. Pym filled him in. “Confined to barracks. House arrest, basically. I think we should talk to them. Count Voralys needs good, honest men to work with him.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Pym,” By protested. “I’m as honest as the day is long.”

“It’s two hours to sunset, sir,” Pym answered, before a hint of a smile broke across his stern features. “Let’s go find these armsmen.”

 

By got back to the residence just in time to clean up for dinner. As well as the two ex-armsmen Count Vorclarence’s pilot was also under detention. By had left all the talking to Pym, although to his mind the armsmen were possibilities and the pilot was shifty as hell. He’d never feel comfortable flying with _him_.

Dinner consisted of vat salmon in dill sauce garnished with slices of lemon. Instead of a heavy soup to start it was followed by an iced strawberry sorbet, ideally suited to the continuing summer weather. There wasn’t much talking as they all enjoyed the meal at last. By might have enjoyed it better if he hadn’t been full to the gills with beer still. The good people of New Sheffield favoured a heavy brown ale. He could well understand the local nickname of _journey into space._ One more glass of it and he’d have been seeing stars.

Ivan Vorpatril laughed outright at By when he left his glass of wine and sipped at a water instead. “You getting too old for this, By?”

The cheeky _sod_ , when he was the one who’d got him out of bed three hours early. Vorpatril would pay for that one. He should mention lovely long hair, all the way down to the knees. _That_ would teach him. He risked a quick glance at the countess. Maybe later. He talked about Vorclarence’s armsmen instead. Chalmers had better be satisfied. He wasn’t going to risk any more than that. Pym could do the rest.

To say he was blindsided when Countess Vorkosigan offered him a job on Sergyar would be an understatement. He was so shocked he groped for his glass of wine. Water wasn’t going to do for this. _Sergyar_? Sergyar with its worm plague and blood-sucking floating parasites and mud huts?

He was still groping for a diplomatic answer when Ivan intervened again.

“By is working for _me_ , Aunt Cordelia. But I’m sure he’s grateful to have the option. He’d love to live on Sergyar if only he could. Wouldn’t you, By?”

_Oooh_ , he was going to keep. By managed a sickly smile. “Absolutely, ma’am. It’s very kind of you to think of me as being able to hold down a position on Sergyar.”

He made it to the end of the meal and stood as Countess Cordelia marched her husband off to bed. Once they were gone he settled back down with Ivan to finish their drinks. Something had been bothering him these past two nights when he couldn’t sleep. Something other than gruesome fairy stories, that was. He’d finally worked out what all the fuss was about. They thought this Vorresiak was a Vorbarra, didn’t they? And they were worried about bio-weapons. That’s what Karasavas had been searching for. Ivan had nearly let the cat out of the bag when they were talking in the library.

Ivan’s face when he broached the theory was a picture. He’d be a lousy poker player.

Being right wasn’t nearly as much of a triumph as he thought it might be. It brought a cold fear to the pit of his stomach. He should be in the capital, finding out the gossip, not here. His nightmares tonight night were going to have nothing to do with the Baba Yaga.

 

If New Sheffield was provincial, Rotherhall had to be a total backwater. It was really strange and By couldn’t quite work it out, but a town full of simple, honest people was beginning to appeal to him. The crowds were back in force, and they all looked _happy_. He hadn’t seen any of the vids of the Voralys District gift to the Imperial wedding, but the heavy horse dray had looked impressive in real life. No wonder all these locals were proud. They escaped at last and reached the relative peace and quiet of _The Black Sheep._ By took the hint that Ivan needed to talk to Fox, the local guard commander, and willingly let himself be led off by the tap-man to the beer cellars.

“Only if there are no spiders, mind, and I don’t do dust, either.”

Ivan just rolled his eyes at him. The cellars were quite fascinating, with their huge oak barrels and brick-paved floors. It wasn’t totally dark as gratings in the footings of the building let in light that lit up the barrels here and there. The golden wood gleamed in the filtered rays of light. The tap-man carried a large torch, too. By didn’t fancy a sample of any of the beers for some strange reason, but he was happy to taste the cider, and the local perry, made from an old English strain of pears over two thousand years old, or so he was told.

“Yes, sir, all made from Williams pears. Same name as the landlady. The first Williams pears were grown in England in the eighteenth century. They survived everything, they did, and bred true.”

No doubt. And how would this young man know any differently? Barrayaran Williams pears probably looked nothing like the Earth counterparts, but the perry was good, all the same. He didn’t mind a second taste of it. He was happily drinking a third when there was a shout from above.

“Hey, By, are you lost down there? We’re off on the tour in five minutes.”

There was just time to dash to the men’s room and then he joined the others to see the heartland of Voralys District. Wide open vistas were rather alien to him, but the vast swathes of standing crops were impressive to anyone’s eyes. There were hop fields, towering over their heads like the giant’s beanstalks of old. Fat sheep and cattle wandered green pastures, and the road often made its way through arched avenues of oak and mixed deciduous forests. It was all delightfully bucolic with its rustic charms. By shuddered to think what a winter wind would be like, howling across these flat plains.

They stopped at the Eccles’ farm for lunch on a shady patio under a trailing vine. By got his first look at the famous Barrayaran blacks and there was no need to feign astonishment. They were breathtaking beasts. Everything was different here and he felt a bit like a fish, albeit a very elegant fish if he said so himself, out of water. It wasn’t the city, and he was just a tad agoraphobic about it all without the comfort of solid buildings around him, but it was warm and he’d had just enough perry to be mellow. He forgot to be overawed by Aral Vorkosigan. Perhaps it was safe to relax.

What he’d actually forgotten about was Ivan, of course. There had to be _some_ reason why he’d been dragged all the way out here. Ivan had another job for him. Uniforms. He wanted him to design all manner of uniforms. How was he supposed to do that?

“Of course you can do it, By” Ivan was ruthless. “You’ve designed all these other fabulous get-ups we keep seeing you in. They need to be practical, mind, even the ones on show to the tourists. A bit of pizazz would be good for those, but no ruffles. Definitely no ruffles.”

“Pizazz? I don’t do pizazz, Ivan. I do svelte. I do charismatic, understated elegance.”

“Understated? You?” Even Aral Vorkosigan laughed at that one.

Cordelia smiled into her glass. “You’d be very good, you know, Byerly. Give it a go,” she said.

Ivan wasn’t finished winding him up. “You don’t have to physically _do_ it all yourself, By. The men Tsipis has organised for me will sort all the commercial details. I need you to be the artistic director. Give the whole thing some of your flair and savoir faire. Speak to your feminine side.”

By muttered under his breath. “I’ll be speaking to your bruised side in a minute, Ivan.”

The conversation turned as Pym came over to speak to the Viceroy. Ivan was serious about him doing some designs, he realised. Could he do it? Well, yes, actually, he could. He hadn’t thought about female outfits before, but the dressmakers could sort out the ins and outs of that, quite literally, if all he had to do were the concept drawings. Hmm. He’d have to think.

Aral drew the four of them off to one side to talk. Cordelia could sniff out a plan from thirty paces away, he realised, when Aral admitted to hiding from Miles.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who likes to hide from the lord Auditor,” he said.

Ivan agreed with him. “Usually it’s much the wisest thing to do. You get anywhere near Miles Vorkosigan and people start to want to disintegrate you, or put holes in you, or drown you. And that’s only on Wednesdays.”

Cordelia sniffed at Aral. “You can’t hide from him forever, you…coward.”

_Shit_. No one else on the planet, no, the whole Imperium, would call Aral Vorkosigan a coward and think to live.

“I just don’t want to lie to him,” Aral explained.

Ivan shrugged his shoulders. “Count Vorkosigan, sir, Byerly knows everything. He’s worked out the whole story. I told him nothing, but if he could do it, Miles surely has.”

By agreed. “That’s right sir. Ivan wouldn’t confirm or deny anything, but it’s obvious, really. There’s a rogue Vorbarra on the loose out there.”

Cordelia looked at him in astonished approbation. “You _have_ been hiding your light under a bushel, Byerly, or at least under those town clown fribbling ways of yours. It must be the Vorrutyer genes. None of them ever lacked for intelligence, even if it was somewhat misapplied from time to time. Like ImpSec HQ.”

“ImpSec HQ works superbly,” Aral objected, “but if you know already we may as well keep you in the loop, Vorrutyer. You’ll probably be useful.”

They stayed for dinner, a spit roast at the local sports ground. Aral and Ivan let their hair down but By was wiser to the ways of the local beer. He made sure his tankard wasn’t topped up too often. When a local damsel made the daring but sadly misguided attempt to lead him astray he went along with it as far as the dance floor. Nobody here expected an act from him. Even Countess Vorkosigan’s thoughtful scrutiny didn’t put him off as he whirled around the floor in a constant exchange of partners. Seriously, he’d forgotten what it was like to have fun.

Their arrival back at the Voralys District house was even funnier. Aral and Ivan had their double act down pat, escaping past the outraged Miles in a drunken semi-stupor that had developed in the two minutes it took to get them from the air car to the front door. Cordelia couldn’t contain her laughter. Whether it was at her husband’s or her son’s behaviour By couldn’t decide. Miles was worse than any outraged father. By was left standing with him in the empty hallway as he ranted on about the worst political crisis of Gregor’s reign.

He led the Lord Auditor, chain of office and all, into the parlour to have a glass of wine. He was better than nobody to have a gossip with. “Let’s have a wine. I’ve been swimming in beer all day. Wait until I tell you what Ivan wants me to do next, and you can tell me exactly what I’ve been missing in the capital. The Emperor is due back in two days’ time, isn’t he? Do you think we can possibly crack this by then?”

Miles looked at Byerly with suspicion. “Crack what?”

“The case of the secret brother, of course. _I_ think it was Count Vorguriyev in the library with the nerve disruptor, myself, but you tell me your theory.”

Miles threw off By’s arm and snarled with anger. “Everyone’s a comedian. It’s _not_ the time for jokes, Vorrutyer. This isn’t some silly table game we’re talking about.”

So Miles was the only one who cared about the safety of the Imperium, was he? _Like hell_. The little shit thought he was better than everyone else. By’s anger boiled over, too. “In that case, Vorkosigan, you tell me how you’re planning on catching that twelve-toed Vorbarra bastard, and I’ll see if I can think of anything to help.”

 

By deliberately slept in the next morning. _Slept_ was a misnomer, though. He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to work out how he could help Aral and Ivan, and the Emperor, of course. The descendants of Pierre le Sanguinaire had let the Empire down for too long. Richars was where he belonged. His own branch of the family needed to be pruned from the family tree. The line stopped with him. He could think of nothing worse than procreating more of the genes he’d inherited. Dono, at last, was going to be a good count. He was content to be the eccentric uncle to Dono’s children. His own father…

By rolled out of bed in a big hurry. He wasn’t going to think about that betrayal. He slammed the shower on full blast and stood under the freezing jet until his breathing returned to normal. Later he watched from his window as Ivan and the senior Vorkosigans headed out for their visit to Prestwich. Ivan surely scrubbed up well, in his best house uniform. Or was that his second best one? It looked subtly different to the one he’d worn at the wedding. By always noticed things like that. Miles must still be sulking. Well one thing was for sure; he wasn’t going to go looking for _him_. He wouldn’t even notice whether By was there or not. Unsettled and uneasy still he headed out to _The Tea Kettle_ to have some breakfast.

The toasted tea cake sat like a leaden lump in his stomach, all the while he smiled and chatted to Mrs Percy. By was still jittery. He’d taken a quick walk through the park and was heading back towards _The Wheatsheaf_ when there was a sudden commotion in the main square. Patrolmen appeared from everywhere to start lining the side of the square next to the municipal buildings with security barricades.

There was a shout from the pub. “Someone’s killed the count!”

_Dear god, no!_ By sprinted inside to push his way to the front of the crowd standing in front of the newsvid. The live feed from Prestwich showed only a scene of total chaos, people running in all directions, bodies stunned or lifeless lying in a tangled heap, green-uniformed ImpSec troopers milling around. As he watched an emergency services flyer took off in a screaming vertical lift. It was hard to tell but it looked like blood on the cobblestones.

“Which count?” No one heard him in the babble of shocked exclamations and swearing. By forced himself through the melée to Lewis, the bar keeper. “Which count was it?”

The man’s face was ashen white. “They’re saying Count Voralys.”

_No, not Ivan_. He’d never wanted this. By closed his eyes against the sick despair that washed over him. He dashed away the rush of scalding tears that filled his eyes. He should have been there! Please god, no, not Ivan. “And the Viceroy? What about him?”

“There’s no word.” The bar keeper turned to the crowd. He bellowed, “Shut up and _listen_ , would you?” They fell silent and at last the voice of the reporter could be heard.

“Live coverage from Prestwich shows the tragic aftermath of the attack in the main square only minutes ago. There are no definite reports as yet but we are hearing that there is at least one fatality. Viceroy and Vicereine Vorkosigan are unhurt and have been evacuated from the scene. I can repeat, the Viceroy and Vicereine are safe and well.”

By had to sit down. He pillowed his head on his arms on the bar counter and tried to suck in some deep breaths. No definite reports… _no definite reports_.

He jumped back up and ran down through the square, which was rapidly filling with bewildered people, bumping into many of them on his way. He was halted at the entrance to the residence by a menacing ImpSec guard. “Let me through! I’m staying here.”

The guard brought his rifle up to the aim. “Back away! Now! No one is coming through here.”

By took a deep breath and a step back. He held both hands up, palms out. “I’m Byerly Vorrutyer. I came down from Vorbarr Sultana with Count Voralys and the Vorkosigans. You have to let me through!”

The man’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Back away now. Last warning. I don’t care if you’re the Lord Auditor himself. Nobody is coming through here!”

He meant it. By backed off and tried the entrance to the municipal offices. It was exactly the same story. He was still standing at the foot of the steps when the Imperial flyer came in to land on the roof. A squadron of stingers circled overhead, on escort. Once that had lifted clear another flyer came in. Unmarked, but ImpSec by the look of it, not the emergency flyer he’d seen lift off from the square in Prestwich. He tried his wrist com. _Nothing_. He tried the ImpSec building. Same story. He didn’t get within ten metres of the place. He couldn’t call Lady Alys, what the hell could he say to her? Besides, she was on holiday. There was _nothing_ he could do.

By walked back to the square. Groups of shocked and angry people stood around, waiting for news. Some actually had tears streaming down their faces. He was almost mobbed, as people recognised him. All he could repeat was, “They won’t let me in. I don’t know anything, sorry.”

He found a table at _The Tea Kettle_. Mrs Percy rushed out. Before she could say a word he held up a hand and repeated his mantra. “They won’t let me in. I don’t know anything, sorry.”

“No, sir, we’re all just so sorry for _you._ You look absolutely dreadful. I’ve got the news vid on in my private office. Come on through. You can’t want all these people staring at you like an exhibit in the zoo. I’ll make you a hot cup of tea.”

The sympathy nearly undid him, but he was very glad of the private place to sit. He’d started to shake, and he had to bite hard on his lip. Not Ivan. It couldn’t be _Ivan_.

It was almost half an hour before the news flashed up. It _wasn’t_ Ivan. The count had been injured but nothing serious, and an Imperial Security officer had been killed. By knew right then it had to be Fenerty. He felt such a rush of relief and guilt both his knees actually wobbled as he stood up. Mrs Percy hugged him so tightly he thought she might crack a rib.

“Oh, it’s such a relief. That there should be such wicked people in this world! That poor, poor man. The count must be in such a way.”

By could see the District office from the cafe. He sat back to wait until the ImpSec guards finally took the barricades away. Now that he wasn’t shaking with grief and terror all he wanted to do was go to sleep. He was still there when the news vids flashed up again with Ivan and Cordelia back in Prestwich. By could only shake his head in amazement and respect. If there was one person in this whole sorry world that was true Vor, not counting Aral Vorkosigan, it had to be Ivan Vorpatril. The vid camera shot was close enough for By to see the enormous strain around his eyes as he stood on the dais in Prestwich and gave his speech.

By gave up waiting and planted himself in front of the barricade by the residence. Someone would have to see him sooner or later. Finally armsman Rykov came out to get him, ushering him past the guard on the gate. By could feel the man’s gaze burning into his back all the way to the door. He’d been waiting all afternoon to shoot somebody, obviously.

Rykov took By up to Aral Vorkosigan’s room. He was with Miles, planning something or other.

“Vorrutyer. Sorry you’ve been kept waiting so long. We wondered what had happened to you. I was just about to send out a search party when we saw you standing there and realised.”

“You’ve been busy, sir, and the men were only doing their duty. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Aral nodded. “Miles and I must get back to Vorbarr Sultana tonight. Cordelia will be remaining behind to stay with Ivan. He’s going to need support tonight at the very least. I know I’m imposing on you but can you look after the two of them for me, and escort Cordelia back tomorrow? We’ll send the flyer back. I know she’s perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet, but it will make an anxious husband feel better.”

The count was flattering him. By didn’t really know why. “I don’t know what I’ll be able to do that three hulking armsmen couldn’t, but of course I’ll do that, sir. I’ll fill her in on all the salacious wedding gossip. That should while away the trip.”

Miles snorted behind him. _Yeah, that’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?_ By didn’t turn around. He didn’t want to look at Miles Vorkosigan right now.

 

 


	5. In from the cold

 

 

Pym and Fox took Ivan straight up to his bedroom when they brought him home. By stood to one side of the staircase and watched him walk blindly up the stairs. Pym had a strong hold on his elbow and Fox followed behind, ready to catch him if necessary. He wanted to help, but stood back. No. He would be superfluous to requirements. These people didn’t need to know how much he cared about Ivan. His armsmen were looking after him, borrowed or unsworn as they were. Instead he held his arm out for the countess.

“Allow me, my lady. It’s been a terrible day for you, too.”

Cordelia looked at him with anguish in her eyes as she slid her arm through his. She sighed and leaned heavily on him as they walked upstairs. “Barrayar eats all her children, Byerly. She ate Fenerty today, and very nearly took Ivan as well. _Promise_ me you’ll stay safe.”

He tried to make light of it. “I’m not important enough for anyone to want to do away with _me_ , my lady, but I can’t promise I won’t be jumped in a back alley by a jealous husband some dark night. I doubt anyone will miss me much.”

They reached the top of the stairs. Cordelia squeezed his hand. “That’s not true, Byerly, none of it. We’d all of us miss you now. Dono needs your help, too, to give Vorrutyers back their honour. Let me have ten minutes and then we’ll have some dinner. I need to hear what happened to _you_ , today.”

Miles and Aral were all ready to go, just waiting to see Cordelia and Ivan home safely. They ate a quick dinner together. The countess actually did want to hear what had gone on, quizzing him about where he was and what had happened when news of the assassination attempt came through. Her mouth tightened when she heard about him not being able to get back into the house.

“That’s an oversight that needs to be corrected. In another situation you could have been in danger out there. Ivan needs some sort of palm reader, Miles. I’m sure you know exactly how to set it up.”

Miles looked totally delighted to have another job to do. By snickered to himself. They’d probably never be friends, but the Lord Auditor wasn’t quite so awful as By had always thought him to be. He was just… _driven_. Well, they all had their demons, didn’t they?

Immediately after dinner Aral and Miles left for Vorbarr Sultana. Probably they’d get there just in time to go to bed. Cordelia and By waved them off from the front hall. Once Aral was out of sight she yawned suddenly, and hastily covered her mouth. “Oh, excuse me, Byerly! How rude. It’s been a long day.”

He’d never thought of the countess as old, the way he could see Aral Vorkosigan was getting old. She was Betan, after all, only just past middle aged by her standards, but right now she looked all of her sixty-plus years. She never let her husband see her looking like that, he was sure.

“You need to go to bed, my lady. Please don’t feel you have to entertain me. There’s a very interesting library to explore here.”

She smiled at him. “That’s kind, By, but I’m going to sit with Ivan tonight. He needs someone with him other than an armsman. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he has nightmares.”

What must it be like, to have someone care like that? It would probably be quite nice, actually, but right now she was exhausted. “I’ll sit with Ivan. _I_ haven’t been in mortal fear of my life all day.” _No, just his_.

“There’s no need. You’re Ivan’s guest.”

“No, I’m working for him. I know you’re his aunt but you need to deal with the Emperor tomorrow. _You_ need your rest.”

They argued back and forth but in the end compromised. Cordelia would sit with Ivan until midnight and By would take over then. Pym and Fox shared duties as well. With a strong sleep timer doing its work Ivan didn’t start to stir until nearly 0900 hours. By hadn’t slept at all. It would be the last time, he knew, that he’d be this close to Ivan. It was time to move on, get on with the rest of his life. It was going to be hard, going back to that other life, his solitary existence living from hand to mouth and scraping by on just enough to pay his mortgage off. That had to be his first aim now, with less than twenty-thousand marks left to go. Once his apartment was _his_ and no one could take it off him, he could relax. If only…if only the Emperor kept him on after that disaster with Dono, he could afford it. This work Ivan wanted him to do would be a stop-gap, and then he’d find _something_ else. He always had. Marcel Vorevreaux would put him back in the good books, once he’d found the evidence to send him down. Perhaps a rich widow would miraculously appear to wave a magic wand and give him a life of ease and comfort. _Ha!_ He wouldn’t know what to do with it. He probably wouldn’t know what to do with the rich widow, either. By laughed softly to himself. He could learn, and if she was a widow she could probably teach him. He didn’t have an aversion to women, after all. Things had just turned out differently.

Fox stirred in his armchair on the other side of the bed. By took pity on his bleary eyes and spoke quietly. “Go and find some coffee. The count looks like he’s waking up at last. If you could bring some back that would be excellent, and some breakfast for him, too. I don’t think he’s eaten anything since breakfast yesterday. Could you tell Pym if you see him that I’ll be going back to Vorbarr Sultana with the countess today?”

“Very good, sir.” Fox padded off to clean up and find them some breakfast. By sat back, sprawling his legs over one arm of the chair as Ivan’s eyelids began to flutter. Voyeurism wasn’t one of By’s usual vices, but this was coming a little close, he knew.

Ivan stretched out finally, and his eyes opened. “By?”

“Good morning, Ivan.” He looked deliciously rumpled, with a shadow of beard darkening his jaw. 

“Have you been there all night?” Ivan rolled over to look at his chrono and winced in pain.

“Not quite, but the Countess was going to, and we couldn’t have that, could we? I relieved her at 2600 hours. Pym and Fox took shifts as well. Fox went to get coffee just now when we saw you stirring. No doubt he’ll be back directly.”

“It’s 0900 hours.” Ivan wasn’t functioning at his best, was he? He went on. “Why were you all sitting with me? I wasn’t at death’s door or anything.”

By shrugged. “Countess Cordelia was worried you’d wake up with screaming nightmares and didn’t want you to be on your own. I couldn’t in all charity let _her_ sit up all night, now, could I? Especially when I wasn’t round for the action, yesterday. I have to do my bit. Miles and his father went back to Vorbarr Sultana last night. They’re going to talk to Gregor together today, at lunch time. Rather them than me.” He needed to get out of here, to the bathroom if nothing else. Being this close to Ivan wasn’t really a good idea.

“Here comes Fox with your coffee and I’ll go and tell the Countess you’re awake. She’ll be heading back to town this morning as well but wanted to see you before she left. I think she’s lending you Pym again, for a short while. If you’re well enough, I should go with her,” he felt his chin, “but not in this state. I’m not fit to be seen. I’ll leave you with Fox.”

By the time he came back out of his bedroom in his best suit and silk shirt he’d recovered his equanimity. Cordelia and Ivan stood together in the upper hall, just outside Ivan’s bedroom door. He came down to see them off, looking not much the worse for wear. By settled back, to relax into the comfortable padded chairs as the air car gained altitude and speed. Their escort wing closed in around them in neat formation.

“So, Byerly,” the countess asked in a conversational tone, “just how long have you been in love with Ivan?”

He froze. Had he been that obvious? Surely not. He’d done his best to hide it.

“You don’t have to worry about me, you know,” she added. “On Beta nobody would turn a hair. You must think I’m prying, but my motives are good, I promise.”

His lips moved but his wits had deserted him. He tried again, but he couldn’t lie to her. It was pointless, and he didn’t want to. “Forever. When I first saw him at the Emperor’s Birthday ball, just before he went with Miles to Cetaganda. I know he didn’t have a clue. I saw him at Donna’s house a few times, too. She used to let me stay with her before I found my own place. Donna and I understand each other. We both wanted the same thing, after all. She lucked out and I didn’t. And now he has Raine.”

“Yes, now he has Raine. How much of a problem is that going to be for you?”

“Oh, not much.” By tried to pass it off. “It was always hopeless, just…just a crush I suppose.”

“Or an enduring passion.” She gave him a strange look. “Your uncle never lost his obsession with Aral.”

Dear god, was she worried he was going to turn out like that? She’d just confirmed some of the old family gossip for him, too. “I can take no for an answer,” he told her bleakly. “I’ve had plenty of practice. I’m not like dear Uncle Ges.”

“Nobody could be like Ges. He had…a sickness. He was vile and loathesome, but he chose his path. You’re neither of those things, By. Don’t despair. Someone will turn up for you. And you know you have family now.”

She was getting too close to home. “Yes, that’s right. Dono’s going to be in a position to help me. He and Olivia should be back from their trip to the District soon. I should call on him and see if I can help with that old mausoleum of his. Who knows what’s lurking in the depths of that place? It makes Vorkosigan House look like the cutting edge of contemporary design.”

She was silent for a moment or two, but allowed herself to be diverted. “Can you imagine what their children are going to look like? Poor Kou still doesn’t know the number of the monorail that hit him.”

“Oh, Commodore Koudelka will soon get used to saying, ‘my son-in-law the count.’ Whether it’s the _in-law_ part, the _son_ part or _the count_ part that’s causing him the difficulty is a moot point.”

“It’s not causing Olivia any difficulties.”

By had pulled himself together now. He cocked an eyebrow and allowed himself a little smirk. “Olivia shouldn’t have _any_ difficulties. Dono has the most unique experience, after all.”

The countess allowed a small smile to cross her face. Was that just the hint of a wink? “Olivia’s a very lucky young lady. She won’t need half the courage Kareen will have to find.”

By could only agree with that one. If there was one thing worse than _Miles_ Vorkosigan it had to be that most peculiar clone of his.

They didn’t talk much for the rest of the journey. Cordelia had a mountain of correspondence on her hand viewer and By was content to drift, enjoying the last of his comfort and idleness. He handed the countess down when the flyer settled on the rooftop landing at The Residence. She gave him another hug.

“Rykov will take you home, Byerly. Come for dinner. Let’s say tomorrow night. I have a feeling we’ll need a council of war. See what you can find out in the meantime.”

He bowed as he kissed her hand. “My absolute pleasure, my lady.”

He watched her disappear inside the private entrance. Rykov, holding his valise, was waiting for him when he turned around. By held his hand out for the case. “I appreciate it very much, Rykov, but there’s no need for you to wait on me. I can find an autocab.”

Rykov indicated the public access doorway. “After you, sir. I don’t care to disobey the countess’s orders.” The _and neither should you_ passed between them unsaid.

His little apartment seemed to have shrunk even further since he’d been away. By contented himself with running the air conditioning to freshen the place and wiping down the non-existent dust from the furniture and counter tops. There was tea in the pantry cupboard and he made himself a cup before settling in front of his comconsole. There were what seemed like hundreds of messages, mostly dross and tawdry gossip from group messages, but there were one or two invitations and a personal one from Dono. He honed in on that one. Dono wanted to see him when he and Olivia got back from Vorrutyer’s District. He should have recovered and relaxed by the time By got to see him again, grown into his new role in life in more ways than one. By had a private smile at the memory of Ivan’s horror when they’d first inspected Dono’s new equipment. That was probably the start of Ivan sticking his head up, loathe as he was to do so. _Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them_ …

By pulled himself up. Now was not the time to fall into a fit of the dismals thinking about Ivan Vorpatril. He needed a drink. Scrolling back through the messages he found one for a party that night. Evelina Vortien and Stasya Vorkalnins. They were usually good for some gossip, and Stasya was Marcel Vorevreaux’s best customer. He’d be there for sure, circling like the carrion eater he was.

Once he’d answered the invitation By fired up his design program. Working on Ivan’s uniforms would take his mind off the distasteful evening to come. The problem with coming in from the cold, even if it was only for a few days, was that the chill was so much bleaker venturing out in it again. It was much better not to think about it until he had to.

He was just about ready to call it a day when his comconsole chimed again. It wasn’t a code he recognised, but it had come in on his priority number. Not Lady Alys, but…what a surprise. _Ekaterin Vorsoisson_. “Madame Vorsoisson. This is an unlooked for pleasure. May I be of assistance?”

“Hello By, Countess Cordelia told me you were back in town. I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice was low and warm, and her eyes held genuine pleasure to be speaking to him.

Despite himself, he smiled back. “Yes, we arrived this morning. Ivan is settling in to his new situation.”

“Oh, wasn’t that terrible, what happened in Prestwich? It must have been just awful for you being down there. Miles told me it was that psychopathic gossip reporter. She twisted me meeting Ivan at Shoko’s into the most vile insinuations, but I never thought she’d be capable of doing anything like _that_.”

“It was a bad few hours. I thought he was dead for quite some time before the good news came through. I wasn’t there when it happened.”

“Yes, indeed. Well, you did quite enough when you saved me and Raine. I hoped I could talk to you about all of that. Would you be able to come out to my uncle’s house, By? Not tomorrow as I’m tied up at the university, but the day after? Come in the afternoon and have a drink in the garden. It’s just beautiful right now. Would 1500 hours suit you?”

She had an ulterior motive, By suspected. There wasn’t a hint of guile in her twinkling blue eyes, but his self-preservation detector had started chiming loudly. It would be churlish to refuse, though. Did Miles Vorkosigan know about this?

Ekaterin must have been psychic herself. “The Emperor has sent Miles off on some Auditorial business, so we’ll be able to discuss things without his…er…”

“Steamrolling us?”

She acknowledged the description. “Something like that. His over-enthusiastic opinions, perhaps.”

“You know what he’s like and you’re marrying the man? You deserve a medal.”

Ekaterin flushed. “I’m very happy to be marrying Miles, By.”

He relented. “Yes, I know, and he can’t believe his good luck, I assure you. None of the rest of us ever had a look in.”

It was Ekaterin’s turn. “Byerly Vorrutyer, you would have run a mile if I had encouraged you _at all_.”

“ _She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is woman, and therefore to be won._ ”

“You always revert to Shakespeare under pressure, you know. It’s a giveaway. _Don't waste your love on somebody, who doesn't value it.”_

That was telling him. _“Ow._ That’s harsh.”

“It was a little bit, but you don’t love me, do you, By? But I can say this. _A good heart’s worth gold_.”

He bowed towards her, acknowledging the compliment. “ _Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.”_

She blushed. “I think you got me there. I never see a small man when I look at Miles. He’s…he is…”

“M _ore than over shoes in love_. And so are you.”

“Well, yes.” She said nothing for a moment, thinking _what_ , he wondered. By tried a little cough to bring her back. “Oh, sorry, By. We’ll talk some more when you come round.

“Yes, madame. Until then. Au revoir.”

Ekaterin Vorsoisson oozed grace and class, he decided. She was a natural lady and would make a wonderful countess, if she outlived her mother-in-law, which certainly wasn’t a given. By corrected himself. All she had to do was outlive _Aral_ Vorkosigan, and that was much more likely. She and Olivia Koudelka would breathe new life into the stuffy ranks of the Vor, and Raine, too, if Ivan ever got his way. He’d forgotten the new Empress, too. A touch maliciously, By contemplated the next birthday ball. It should be quite something. _Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall._

 

 

 


	6. Kindness is not a four letter word

 

 

_Blindsided by kindness_.

Byerly Vorrutyer finally worked out what had happened to him. Kindness was not something he had much experience of and he hadn’t recognised it. Hate, scorn, spite and cruelty were far closer bedfellows. He’d known _them_ all his life. Pain, too, in one form or another. He wasn’t too sure about kindness. It was going to mean he owed people a debt. He hadn’t been beholden to anyone in fifteen years. What the hell was he going to do about it?

It had been unnerving enough to be included in the Vorkosigan’s planning dinner the night before. To be treated with respect by team Vorkosigan was something he would always cherish. They’d listened to his suggestion and run with it. Ivan was going to hold a party for all the raff and the scaff of the Vor. They hadn’t been finished, though, had they? The sneak attack had just come from Ekaterin. He’d forgotten she’d joined the team.

He stood on Lord Auditor Vorthys’s doorstep, blinking in the afternoon sun. Ivan Vorpatril stood beside him, looking as unsure as he felt.

“Bar?” Ivan suggested.

“Bar.” By could only agree. Ivan waved off his almost-armsman and his ground car and started walking. He knew the location of every bar in town, the same as By did, and they both headed unerringly without spoken agreement to the _Mad Monk._ Neither of them said a word until they got there. Dingy, decrepit and discreet, they could be sure no woman would ever darken its doorstep. Built into an old Time of Isolation warehouse it was full of tall-backed booths and quiet corners. The bar keeper was always called Rasputin at the _Mad Monk_. By wondered if Ivan knew why. Ancient history probably wasn’t one of his strongpoints, although he’d surprised him more than once in the last few weeks. Ivan Vorpatril probably didn’t even know what a monk was, never mind a thousand year old mad one…

It was a sign of his deep discomfort that By bought the first round of drinks without even thinking about it. Ivan noticed, though. “Shit, By, you must be rattled.”

He could only agree. “I’m so rattled I’m all out of Shakespeare quotes, or even latin ones.” By stared gloomily into his drink. “It’s not every day a lovely woman like that tells you you’re past it. She even held my hand, like I was on death’s door or something.”

“No one’s ever told _me_ that. Especially not the lovely ladies.” Ivan dampened down his grin. “Sorry, By, I couldn’t resist. Can’t have you feeling sorry for yourself. Er…about what Ekaterin said. She was right, you know. It’s a damned dangerous game you’ve been playing. We’d all kind of miss you if you ended up in the river with your throat cut. Richars has to have a long memory, and friends, apart from all the shady customers you normally hang around with. One of them is going to catch up with you if the drugs don’t kill you. All it needs is one bad batch.”

By just looked at Ivan. “Are you serious? You actually care whether I’m alive or dead?”

Ivan pulled a face. He’d been found guilty of concern. “You’re like my shifty cousin. Can’t stand to have him anywhere near me and then I worry like hell whenever he isn’t where I can keep an eye on him. It used to be so much easier, you know. Why can’t we all just have a quiet life? I used to like working eight ’til five for the Emperor, in Ops.”

“ _I would give all my fame for a pot of ale, and safety._ ”

“Ha! At least you’re back to quoting.” Ivan finished his glass of wine and called for a second. “So, I need to get all this right in my head. _I_ thought all I had to do was pay for you to do up the ballroom for a party. That’s what we settled on last night. _Now_ the plan is I have to redecorate Voralys House and turn it into a showcase. Ekaterin is going to revamp the gardens and get more commissions that way. The pair of you are going to insinuate yourselves into every great house in town, and probably out in the Districts, too.” Ivan lowered his brows. “You are _not_ going to let Ekaterin put herself in danger, are you?”

“My word as Vorrutyer on that one. I can’t believe Miles would, either. Ekaterin can do all the legitimate work and be the front. She can leave the weaselling to me.”

“Well, at least you’re good at _that_. First things first. What are we going to do about this party?”

“I’ll have a word to Ekaterin and come up with some preliminary ideas. I’ll come out and measure tomorrow, and get things moving. You’ll have minions available for all the actual _work_ , won’t you?”

Ivan’s mouth thinned. “I’ll have my valued household staff and the men who are going to be my armsmen. They’ll be treated as such. _You’re_ working for me as well, don’t forget.”

By hadn’t meant it that way. The smart quip came out automatically now, after so much practise. He hadn’t had much practise at saying sorry, though. Subservience was something else he was going to have to learn. “I’ll be the best minion you’ve ever had, sir. I know my place.”

Now he’d really got to Ivan. He was angry. “I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it, _Vorrutyer_.”

By bowed in his seat. “No, my lord count. Of course not.”

Ivan stood up abruptly. “I’ve had enough of this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

By didn’t sleep that night.

 

He took a long, straight look at himself in the bathroom mirror the next day. He even practised. _I’m sorry, sir. I was wrong._ That didn’t sit well with him at all. _I’m sorry, count. I shouldn’t have said that._ Well, he shouldn’t have said it, should he? _Equals_ could joke like that, sometimes. Ivan hadn’t realised he’d been joking. And _that_ was entirely the problem. He saw himself as the equal of Ivan Vorpatril, or even Miles Vorkosigan. Delusions of grandeur, he had, or just straight out delusions. Vorrutyers were always mad. _He_ was a nobody. His grandfather had been a count, hardly a claim to personal fame. His cousin had been a count and his other cousin was now the count. But _Byerly_ Vorrutyer? Nobody. A _minion_ , in fact. A paid employee. He was in a foul mood by the time he left his apartment. He didn’t feel much better by the time he reached Voralys House. He cleared the gate security without a problem and walked up to the front door. With his foot on the first step he had a sudden awful thought. Should he have gone to the staff entrance? A minion would do that. Too late. He’d been seen. Marcus Fox opened the door for him.

“Good morning, sir.”

Ivan was actually crossing the hall as Fox ushered him in. He smiled and held out his hand. “Morning, By. Come to see the ballroom? It’s this way.”

By shook Ivan’s proffered hand. Had he forgotten? It was like him not to hold a grudge. “I wasn’t sure if I should go to the staff entrance. Just tell me what you’d prefer.”

Ivan stared at him like he’d grown another head or something. “That’s the second time in two days you’ve been an ass, Vorrutyer. D’you think I’d make _Ekaterin_ use the staff entrance? If this thing is going to work you have to make the clients think _you’re_ doing _them_ the favour. Be your usual charming self. No _Vorrutyer_ uses a staff entrance. Come on, the ballroom’s this way.”

By showed Ivan the plan he and Ekaterin had come up with last evening, after a quick comconsole chat. Ivan kept giving him strange looks. Eventually he came right out with what he was thinking. “How do you feel about all this, By? Did you get any sleep last night? I’m still stunned at you getting out of bed before lunch time. I appreciate the sacrifice, you know.”

By batted his eyelashes like a Vor bud at the Emperor’s ball. “ _To business that we love we rise betime and go to it with delight.”_

Ivan just rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a million of them, don’t you? Honestly, how do you feel?”

What was he supposed to say to that? Did Ivan want him to squirm? He shrugged. “It’s not a pleasant feeling, getting told that you’re too old for the job. Ekaterin _is_ right though, and if she could see it on such short acquaintance no doubt General Allegre could see it and he wouldn’t have been nearly as diplomatic about it all as she was.”

That was enough of the personal stuff. He pulled his laser measure out of his data case and wiggled his eyebrows. “You didn’t exactly mention budget. Can I use my own initiative?”

Ivan looked almost relieved as they started bickering. “No, you damn well can’t. Modest, By. Tasteful but _modest_. That’s the way to go.”

By sighed. “Cheapskate! Genius and modest don’t fit together, I hope you realise.”

Ivan looked at him warily. “What do you think a decent budget for decorations would be?”

“Starting from scratch as we are, I’d say at least three thousand marks. Probably closer to five thousand.”

“What?” Ivan almost screeched at him. “ _Five thousand_? You have to be joking!”

By shrugged. “Style is expensive. I’ll try and keep it down. The minimum would be three thousand marks, unless we can find things to use in the house.”

Ivan looked shell-shocked. “You’d better start looking damn quick, or this is going to be the first and last party _I’m_ holding. That would pay for a thousand kids to have meals for a week, back in the District.”

“ _Money is a good soldier, sir_.”

“It would want to be a general, for that amount.”

“A lot of it will be reusable, don’t forget. The flowers will be the main cost. Once you’re set up you might be able to find a wholesaler in your District and recirculate the money back into your economy that way. It should even provide more employment.”

Ivan wasn’t exactly mollified, but he gave in. “I’ll leave you to it. Get a couple of the men and have a look around the storerooms. Head for the kitchen if you need coffee. Nicolaides will give you the credit chit. I’ll authorise five thousand, but seriously, By, try not to spend it all.”

He was left to the tender mercies of Pym, who was still on secondment, and Philip Nicolaides, who eyed him like he was straight from the local circus. By stayed as friendly as he could, measuring up and noting everything in his data filer. They co-opted Driscoll and Kosa to poke around the storerooms under the kitchen next to the wine cellar.

“It’s just like Winterfair, sneaking around to find the presents,” Driscoll remarked as they opened a cupboard to find about thirty candelabra, all individually bagged in green baize.

His innocent remark triggered an unwelcome memory. By tried to pass it off. “Is it? You have the better of me, there. I never sneaked around. I was usually locked in.” And Winterfair was usually pretty grim, too, with his mother and father off to the festivities at Vorrutyer House and his sister and he left to the mercy of the nanny back in the District, until they were left instead to their own devices, of course, once they were too old for the nanny. The festivities vanished when old Count Dono died. Pierre didn’t do festivities. By was too old for Winterfair then, anyway.

He turned away to open another cupboard. Dinnerware. They found all manner of things; cutlery, tables and elegant spindle-back chairs. Kosa discovered all the table linen neatly folded and stacked. The piece de resistance was a roll of about twenty metres of red carpet. By mentally reduced his budget by a thousand marks. There was no need to hire anything.

Nicolaides took him off to the kitchen at last and introduced him with a stern look. “Coffee or tea? This is Ma Belka. She’s our new cook, and we’re all very grateful to her.”

By gave her his best smile and bowed. “I’ll be _devoutly_ grateful, don’t you worry. The last time I tried to cook I burned the salad.”

She turned away with a trill of laughter and produced a spiced peach tart for him. By took a bite. He looked at her, astonished.

“You’re not related to—”

She held her finger to her lips. “If word gets out she won’t share any more of her recipes.”

“Count Voralys didn’t mention _this_ perk of the job.”

By lingered for a while, taking in the smells and the homely comfort of the kitchen, cracking jokes and keeping them all laughing. It was already a hub of the house, he could see. Ivan’s secretary put a stop to his antics. He produced the credit chit Ivan had authorised for him.

“I’ll need all of the receipts. Electronic transfer is fine. Copy me on any transactions, please.”

“Certainly.” By tipped him a quasi-salute. “I’ll make sure I do that.”

Nicolaides didn’t like him. He didn’t have to like him, did he? All they had to do was work together. By pocketed the chit and went on his way. There was a fascinating fabric warehouse down by the shuttleport that he’d always wanted to investigate. They weren’t going to turn him away this time, with a warrant from Count Voralys in his pocket. He’d be buying enough for a wholesale transaction, with more to come, most likely. Time to turn on the charm again. This job could actually be enjoyable, especially as he wasn’t using his own money. He spoke half to himself as he waited for an autocab by the main gate. _They say, if money goes before, all ways do lie open._

It certainly turned out that way at the wholesale florist By visited after he’d spent a pleasant two hours at the fabric warehouse. The proprietor dropped everything to take him on a tour of the cool rooms. Business had plummeted to practically nothing while the Vor recovered from their pre-wedding excesses. Vorrutyer, it seemed, was a magic name. By couldn’t believe he’d been so dim. “Of course. Dono’s wedding.”

Did the man believe he was a not-so-secret shopper for the count, testing them out? Well, if he gave him a good enough deal By wasn’t averse to putting a good word in Dono and Olivia’s ears. He may as well check out what they could do for that while he was here. He could always bring Olivia and her mama back another time.

“White. Nothing but pure white. No cream, or buff, or anything like that. I’m going to need six, no, make that eight, main pedestal displays and,” he rapidly totted up the public rooms in his head, “Sixteen table bowls. No more than thirty centimetres high for those. Roses are too common. I want something with—” he nearly said pizzaz, before memory kicked in. _I don’t do pizzaz. I do svelte, understated elegance_. “I want something uncommon. Exotic, even. Roses will do for the outside entrance, if you have standards for hire.”

The proprietor kissed his fingers. “Sir, I have the very thing, a new line we’re just trialling. They’re from Escobar, shipped in stasis. Not cheap, but for a client like yourself I’m sure we can come to a satisfactory solution.” He showed By some ethereally beautiful, white, bell-shaped blooms, kept in a dark, chilled room.

“Have you ever seen anything like them? They’ll thrive in artificial light, but I wouldn’t recommend them for outdoor use.”

By touched a petal with the tip of his finger. A delicate perfume, unlike anything natural he’d smelled before, wafted towards him. “These are just the thing. What are they?”

The proprietor smiled. “Moon flowers, sir. Escobaran Moon flowers.”

“Oh, really?” By felt evil all the way to his toes. Should he? What would Ivan do? Would he even realise? It would be delicious finding out. He blinked a little at the price and halved the number of blooms in each display. Less was more, sometimes, he reminded himself. Perhaps in a halo of baby’s breath? They tried it out. With some trailing, feather-fine ferns and a lush blue satin sash around each vase the effect looked superb. By zapped off a holo to Ekaterin to get her opinion. Even the florist regarded him with respect.

“You have a very fine eye, sir. It would be my very great pleasure to work with you again. Perhaps, for a special commission I could call on your design skills?”

“Doublevee aesthetica will be happy to help, for a fee. I’ll get my secretary to send you a card. We only do exclusive work for private clients. No corporate events, unless we’re talking the Vorbarr Sultana Symphony, or something like that.”

“Of course. We pride ourselves on unique work here. Discretion is our watchword.”

_Bullshit platitudes are your watchwords._ By didn’t vocalise the thought. Fawning might be something else he’d have to get used to.

He checked out blue and grey florals, while he was there. There was a variety of blue lavender developed on the South Continent, and a startlingly grey foliage he hadn’t seen before, propagated from a Betan desert plant. He snapped a few holos for future reference. Olivia might well have her own thoughts, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

Ekaterin's enthusiastic response came in just before he'd finished. That settled it. He placed his orders. They'd be up all night, getting them ready.

It was time to get back to Voralys House. The fabrics should have been delivered by now and he could set to work.

When Ivan got back from his morning at The Residence the design was starting to take shape. By could see he was impressed. Pym, who’d been watching him like a hawk, seemed to approve, too. Only Nicolaides looked like the grim reaper.

“He doesn’t like Vor,” Ivan explained in an undertone. “Thinks we’re all a waste of space.”

“Oh, is that all?” By cracked a smile. “I thought it was something personal.”

 

 


	7. Someone has to do it

 

 

Byerly Vorrutyer was nervous. He checked and rechecked all the pickups with Mikhail Karasavas and took one last look around the ballroom. He’d already taken holos and vids of all the decorations, the start of what he hoped would be a professional portfolio. It was strange to feel _pride_ in an achievement. Even when he provided information to ImpSec his main emotion had always been disgust, sometimes with himself but always with the lowlife grubs he had to deal with. Had he really done all this? There was nothing ugly about any of it. The ugly was yet to come. This…this was beautiful. He wandered from room to room, one last check before the guests arrived.

He nodded hello to Ivan, who had just come downstairs. Ivan stopped short by the pedestal flower arrangement at the foot of the stairs. By watched as his eyes widened. Escobaran Moon flowers. _Gotcha._ Time to disappear. He didn’t want to attract attention or look like the first to arrive so he’d stroll in with some of the waiters later, once the music had started. He fled into the kitchen to wait it out.

There wasn’t any danger of anyone turning down their invitation. It wasn’t long before the public rooms began to fill with people. He doubted a single one of them had set foot inside Voralys House before; the old count wasn’t known for his entertaining, and especially not _this_ demographic. By hung around the drinks and buffet tables, chatting to a few people but waiting for one of his marks to appear. Lord Nigel Vorolney swaggered in with Evelina Vortien. She was almost wearing a low cut and high slit gown in diaphanous apricot silk. Honestly, she needn’t have bothered. They headed straight for a waiter with a tray of drinks. Vorolney swigged the first one down in one gulp and replaced his glass with a second one. His other hand trailed down Evelina’s back to cup her right buttock and squeeze. Evelina laughed in a shrill, high-pitched giggle that set By’s teeth on edge. What was she on? Something had to be affecting her judgement. Vorolney was nothing but a slimy pimp if he wasn’t anything worse. Neither Vorolney nor Evelina Vortien were his main concern, though. By turned away to scan the ballroom. Ivan had come in to circulate, but he was backed up to the wall with Stasya Vorkalnins pressed up close like a second skin. It didn’t look like Ivan was enjoying the experience. Just as By started to wander over to rescue him Fox pried the two of them apart. Ivan slipped around behind Fox and shot out of the room like he’d been scalded. By watched him go.

“What’s so funny, Vorrutyer?”

By whirled to see Marcel Vorevreaux standing by his shoulder. Fabian Vortalence wasn’t far behind him. Well, that was to be expected, wherever Vorevreaux went Vortalence was sure to be following behind.

“I was just thinking, Marcel, that Ivan’s bitten off more than he can chew tonight. He thought he’d have his little rebellion while his mother’s away, but she’ll be pulling the strings again fast enough as soon as she gets back.” He held up his glass and sipped. “To cats and mice.”

Vorevreaux laughed maliciously. “It’s hard to believe that dolt’s a count, isn’t it? Nearly as hard to believe that Vorkosigan’s a Lord Auditor. The Emperor’s rewarded them both well. Probably for services rendered.”

By cocked his head. “Oh, undoubtedly. A little parting gift, perhaps, now that Gregor’s finally decided to do his duty by the Imperium.”

Vorevreaux snatched at another glass of wine and waved it dangerously around until some slopped over the edge of the glass. By just avoided wearing it. “I wouldn’t mind a gift like this. It’s wasted on Vorpatril. We’ll just have to help him share it, eh, Fabian?”

Fabian Vortalence wrapped his hand round Vorevreaux’s neck to pull him close. He looked straight into By’s eyes over the man’s shoulder. His pupils were more dilated than they needed to be in the gleaming light from the chandeliers. His tongue flicked gently to tease Vorevreaux’s ear and he whispered. “I’m not sharing you with anyone.”

By felt like he’d looked into a mirror. He had to finish his wine to swallow the nausea. Perhaps he could…no. “I’ve heard the Blue Salon is cosy. Did you see it on your way in?”

“Maybe later. There’s a sofa just over there.” Vorevreaux dragged his lover off. By watched Helen Nicolaides eye them with total disgust before she disappeared for the night.

By wandered off again. He tried to pry Evelina away from Vorolney but he was having none of it, holding onto his prey like an eagle jealously guarding its kill. “Find your own partner, Vorrutyer,” he snarled. “I wouldn’t have thought a female would interest you.”

“You thought wrong.” By stared at him, keeping his voice level.

Vorolney was the first to break eye contact. “There might be some scraps lying around somewhere. If you do find someone desperate you can join us. We’re heading for the library. Stashya doesn’t mind slumming it. Try her.”

Stashya Vorkalnins had picked up her own escort. By watched her disappear into the library with Theo Vormercier and two boys he didn’t recognise, probably from this year’s crop straight out of school. Younger sons? Probably _youngest_ sons of youngest sons, with no expectations and no prospects. By didn’t follow them. He didn’t want to jeopardise the thin connection he’d made with Theo Vormercier. He’d play _that_ game another day.

Marcel Vorevreaux appropriated the Blue salon soon enough. He’d taken the hint. There was a vid pickup in there as well as the microphones. The innocent flowers in their bowls in there had more than one serpent lingering under them. By waited for a few customers to make their way in and out before joining the queue. One of the prunings from the family tree slipped out of the library and into the Blue room just ahead of him and left again _before_ stowing his purchases out of sight. The vials held a purple liquid By didn’t recognise. Something new, then? They weren’t hypospray capsules, probably they just went into drinks, not even trying to be disguised.

“You’ve got something new, Marcel?” He asked when it was his turn at last.

“So new it’s not cold yet. I don’t think you can afford it, Vorrutyer.”

By was used to this, but Vorevreaux needed him. By knew everyone. “You need someone to pass the word, if it’s so new. From Komarr, or the Whole?’

“None of your business.” Vorevreaux’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking questions?”

“That shit you gave me from Komarr nearly took my head off. It was an amateur job, to say the least. Not worthy of you. I’d kind of like to wake up tomorrow, eventually.”

“Oh, that.” Vorevreaux shrugged. “ _This_ shit’s not from Komarr. That was only temporary after that little incident with the _Kanzian.”_

“Louis running it in himself now, Marcel?”

“Yes—you have a big mouth, Vorrutyer.” Vorevreaux stopped short, furious at himself. “Piss off. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 _Too late._ “Well, I do, and Louis does. I haven’t seen him for a long time, though.” By pushed it. He wasn’t normally this…bold. “When did you last talk to him?”

Vorevreaux jumped up from his chair and took hold of By’s tunic to yank his face close. Spittle sprayed from his mouth as he snarled. “What Louis Vorbataille and I talk about is none of your damned business, Vorrutyer. When he hears about this he’s going to come visiting, and bring his armsman with him. You remember that, you nobody. Don’t go walking down any dark alleys on your way home.” He spat again, deliberately this time. “Now get out of my sight. Try Nigel Vorolney if you're desperate. He sells the cheap stuff.”

By was sent staggering back with a violent shove. Vorevreaux was a big man.

By walked slowly and precisely to the men’s room. Very carefully he sluiced his face with water. It wasn’t enough. He shot into a cubicle and vomited. He wouldn’t be the first or the last to do that tonight, but most of the others would be due to the alcohol. His revulsion didn’t matter. He’d got what he needed. And if he was going to be paid a visit by Louis Vorbataille so much the better. It would smoke him out. By sluiced his face again. His tunic was ruined where Vorevreaux had ripped a button off, taking some of the fabric with it. By disguised it as best he could, opening it all the way and undoing his shirt as well. He just looked drunk. It would have to do.

The door opened and Fabian Vortalence walked in without a glance to pass By and go to a cubicle. There was no one else there. By checked all the stalls to make sure. He sluiced his face one more time and spoke to his reflection.

“If you ever can’t stand it any more, you can come to me.”

There was no answer, but By knew he’d heard.

The beauty was all gone from the ballroom when he finally made it back. There was raucous laughter and lewd comments as Ginnie and Luca Vorpinski disappeared under one of the tables. At least they were married, although a singularly more inappropriate name than Virginia was hard to imagine. Donna had been friends with Luca’s distant cousin at one time; By had seen him come and go at her apartment. At least _that_ branch of the family had more taste and discretion.

Ivan had seen them go, too. His look of chagrined horror said it all. Tired and abhorred by the whole filthy business all at once By sank into a chair with his head back against the wall. He was done. Guy Allegre could find someone else. He was _done_.

Ivan found him at last. He dragged a chair over to sit beside him. “Good night, Vorrutyer?”

By couldn’t look at Ivan. His anger boiled out in a hot, murderous rage, all the more vicious because he felt so…impotent. “Marcel Vorevreaux needs to wind up in a gutter with his throat cut. I might just do it myself.” Just right then he meant every word he said. “Did you see the state of Stasya Vorkalnins, and little Evelina Vortien?”

He had to stop to suck in a ragged breath. He tried to find something, _anything_ , positive. “Well, the good news is we’ve got the link to Louis Vorbataille. He does the smuggling from Jackson’s Whole and Vorevreaux is the distribution man.”

He talked some more, but he hardly heard what his own mouth was saying. He was only brought back to full realisation when Ivan mention Fabian Vortalence. By looked at him at last. Ivan could be trusted.

“You don’t have to worry about Fabian Vortalence.”

It might be 0400 hours after a hideous night but Ivan could still take a hint. He abruptly stopped talking about Fabian Vortalence. They both turned to talk to Pym, instead, who’d brought a holovid recorder into the room. When he heard Pym had taken it from the library By slumped in relief. Perhaps they could still save Evelina from herself somehow.

“It wasn’t Theo Vormercier, was it, Pym?” he asked him. “We haven’t managed to work out how he makes his money, yet. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Pym’s face was poker stiff. “No, sir. I think he was just there to enjoy himself. It was Count Vorolney’s youngest son. I’ll have a word to the Count’s guard commander. That’s one that seriously needs his wings clipped, that is.”

He might have guessed it would be Nigel Vorolney. No wonder he had such a tight hold on Evelina. She was his meal ticket.

For a successful night they all felt like they’d been defiled, degraded and polluted. By could see it on their faces. He sent Ivan off to bed at last, to take a sleep timer. He stayed behind himself to make sure no trace of the debauchery was left for any of the innocent members of the house to find. By hadn’t met Ivan’s adopted daughter yet but he’d seen the look on Ivan’s face when he’d mentioned the kids and the realisation had sunk in that he was going to have to protect her from this kind of lifestyle. Ivan’s Marie would be all right. He _cared_ about her welfare.

It staggered him when By realised he cared himself. He’d had no one close to him to care about before now, apart from the sister who’d been ripped away from him. His thirst for justice had been somewhat altruistic but it was _personal_ , now. There’d be Dono’s children, and Ivan’s. Even Miles and Ekaterin Vorkosigan’s future children deserved protection. He couldn’t save Evelina Vortien in all likelihood, but he could try with all the others.

No. As the sun came up and By supervised the clean up crew to remove any last trace of the party, he realised he wasn’t _done_. He could never be done. He’d just have to go on. Not with Vorevreaux and his like, perhaps. He’d burned his bridges there, but there were plenty more where he came from.

By Watched as two men carried Ivan’s carpet out of the house. It stank of piss and vomit and worse. Rolled up as it was the back of the carpet still looked almost as good as the front. Better even, as it was still relatively clean. Something flickered in By’s tired brain.

“What do you want us to do with this, sir? Take it to the dump?”

By shook his head. “No, wait.” He found a comconsole and flicked through the directories. At last he found something that looked suitable and read it aloud. “ACS. _Archival cleaning and storage_. Specialising in antiques fabric restoration. Hmm. Yes, take it there.”

He gave the men the address and his contact number for the quote. At last he was done. He called an autocab and headed for his bed. His clean, spartan apartment had never appealed so much before. By sealed the locks and switched off the comconsole. He’d already vomited but he stood in the cold shower for a long time, until his skin stopped crawling and his shudders came from the cold water. His sheets were cool and _clean_ at the last, his own private haven.

 

By didn’t surface until early evening. Ivan was heading out for a course the next day, he knew. He wouldn’t get to see him for a week. He actually didn’t want to see him until the vivid memories of the night before had had a chance to dim, even if slightly. It would take a long time for By’s memory of Marcel Vorevreaux to fade. His gorge rose again as he thought of the creep spitting into his face. That memory was going to fuel his range until Marcel came by his just rewards. It didn’t matter if it took years. He’d get him.

By flicked through his messages. Mikhail Karasavas had reported to ImpSec. By sighed. _His_ report had to be his first priority. He’d get that done tonight. There was one from Nigel Vorolney, threatening vengeance if his holovid recorder wasn’t returned. He ignored that one. One from Evelina asking if he knew where it was. Vorolney had obviously put her up to it. He ignored that too. The rest was the usual dross until he came to one from ACS specialist cleaners. Could he please call them at his earliest convenience? The quote was probably going to be sky high. He put through a call but they’d closed for the night. By needed to get on. He promised to call back in the morning and promptly forgot about it. Guy Allegre was going to be breathing down his neck if he didn’t get the report done. He popped a painkiller and set to work.

Another night’s rest saw him back to his usual self. He’d bundled his tunic into the trash when he’d come home the morning before so now his choice for the day was his sober blue suit with the grey piping. His liquid brown eyes weren’t shot with red any more, or not for a while, any way. It was time to go back to Voralys House and start planning the redecoration. Philip Nicolaides would be in charge with Ivan away on his course. By couldn’t see himself as being flavour of the month with him right now, but at least Ma Belka would give him a welcome, and a spiced peach tart if he could wangle one out of her. It would make a pleasant change dealing with normal people. By had just sipped the last of his coffee and had rinsed and dried his cup when the comconsole sounded. He put the cup away in its allotted position and checked the call. It was the cleaners again.

“Vorrutyer here.”

“Good morning, sir. Would it be convenient for you to call by and discuss the rug you’ve consigned to us?”

“It’s that bad, eh? Just tell me now if it’s beyond saving.”

“Oh, no, sir. We pride ourselves at ACS on meeting difficult challenges. The rug will clean beautifully. It should have been done before now, but better late than never. The thing is, sir, it’s a very special rug. One might almost say unique. I’d like to call someone in from the museum to advise us about it.”

He spoke with a suppressed excitement. He thought he was on to something, By could tell. “When can you get them there?”

“For this, sir, probably within the next two hours.”

By made a decision. “Very well.” He glanced at his chrono. “I’ll meet this expert at your premises at 1000 hours. Thank you for letting me know.”

 

Seven hundred knots per square inch. Two hundred years old. A priceless national treasure. And Nigel Vorolney had filmed an orgy on it. By didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He knew Ivan never wanted to see it again. The museum expert had been beyond herself with excitement. They were going to call in the curator from the museum at Vorhartung Castle, and representatives from the Kareen Vorbarra trust. By shuddered when he thought how close he’d been to sending it to the dump.

 _"Oh, Ivan_. Do I have news for you!"

 

 


	8. Babysitting

 

 

It was a very strange week. By could not remember a time when he’d gone to _work_ like any regular eight-to-fiver heading in to Ops HQ, or any one of the thousands of proles passing him by on the streets. By the third day he was actually tired and took himself off to bed at 2200 hours. _Sober_.

Apart from working at Voralys House, Master Tsipis had come to town from Hassadar and summoned him to Vorkosigan House. Only the thought of coffee and cakes from Ma Kosti reconciled By to his fate as he fronted up to the ImpSec guard at the main gate. Armsman Jankowski admitted him to the striking hall with its black and white tiled floor and grand circular staircase. Tsipis waited for him in the business office, a room By had never seen before. It was sleek, modern and no-nonsense, like the grey-haired man sitting behind the desk. His shrewd eyes watched as By crossed the floor towards him.

“Good morning, sir. I appreciate you being so prompt.” Tsipis looked faintly surprised as he stood to shake hands. Miles had probably warned the man not to expect anything much.

“I wonder what Lord Vorkosigan had told you about me?”

Tsipis cocked an eyebrow. “He’s told me he’s happy for you to become a business partner of Madame Vorsoisson. That’s all I really need to know. It’s my job to ensure the business starts off on the best possible footing. Shall we get to it?”

 _Phew!_ By’s head was reeling when they stopped for coffee two hours later. Bank accounts, business registration, data recorders, trademarks, letterheads, line of credit, business comcodes, suppliers, charge-out rates, profit sharing. Tsipis had thought of everything. By blinked at the charge-out rates he suggested.

“Exclusive clientele expect to be charged for exclusive work,” Tsipis explained. “It’s always possible to drop the rate or discount if you wish, but you can’t add on at the end of a commission if you’ve underquoted.”

“True.” By sipped his coffee. “What about advertising? Is it enough to rely on word-of-mouth? And how do I go about using my portfolio?”

“Advertising smacks of desperation. Wait for Lady Alys to do her work. I would suggest only using holovids with permission, and only public rooms and gardens. Never show new clients what private work you’ve done, unless your previous client is happy to have it shown. Bedrooms, for example, would be a no-go area.”

By flicked on his data recorder and showed Tsipis his holos of Voralys House. “This type of thing? About three hundred people saw the place, and I’ve had a couple of enquiries from guests already. Ivan must have told them who did the work.”

Tsipis had scrolled through a few shots. “These are excellent. Yes, you can include floral decorations, of course, and wide shots. Avoid anything that might hint at security arrangements, of course, or floor layouts.”

He ran some data disks through By’s recorder while they took their break, showed him how to use a particular program and called up a data file. “Enter all your enquiries in here, including preliminaries, visits, quotes, etc. Everything uploads automatically to the central data bank each evening, copies of discussions are sent to clients so there are no ambiguities and it also prioritises further actions for you.”

How much would this little programme have set him back, By wondered. Working with the Vorkosigans had its advantages. And its drawbacks, of course. Nothing had been said, but Tsipis hadn’t had to. _No moonlighting_. Everything through the books, with an accountable data trail. By liked Tsipis. He was the master of efficiency and detail. Nothing was going to slip past him.

There were more programmes he was itching to try out. One neat one produced quantity amounts and price quotes for paint and fabrics. That would save a lot of mental calculations. Another manipulated floral arrangements at the touch of a stylus, changing colours and shapes almost at will.

Tsipis invited him to stay for lunch. Over the meal he handed over a set of key codes. “Your new office, just off the Great Square. Lord Vorkosigan happened to hear of a vacancy coming up and…er…snaffled it, for want of a better word. Security is sufficient for Madame Vorsoisson to meet you there or work there herself, if she so chooses. We’ll go there after this and have you entered on the security database. You’ll need a secretary, too, of course. We can run your comconsole messages through Hassadar temporarily until business builds up. No need to worry about that for now. Do you have any questions?”

Yeah, just how much of this was Ekaterin, and how much Miles Vorkosigan with his forward momentum? By felt like he’d been caught up in a snowball rolling downhill, getting bigger and faster every second. Just as long as there wasn’t a brick wall at the bottom.

“Tsipis, I have so many questions I can’t even put words to them, but what I’ll do is study all of this and come back to you. The one thing that is really bothering me, though, is how we are supposed to pay for the office space without an income stream? Going into debt is _not_ something I want to do.”

Tsipis allowed himself a little smile. “That’s the role of the sleeping partner at the moment. Your outgoings are guaranteed for six months.”

“Lord Vorkosigan. I’m not so sure I want to be beholden to my ersatz cousin Miles.”

“You are forgetting just how much his lordship is beholden to _you_ , sir. He can never repay that debt. The building is actually owned by the Lord Padma Vorpatril estate, so the lease, which you have rightly deduced is being underwritten by Lord Vorkosigan, comes at a preferential rate. One might almost say a family discount.”

Those little spider webs were shooting from all sides to snare him up. By could feel control slipping away from him. He didn’t like it, or the thought of ending up like the spider’s next meal, cocooned in silk and sucked dry. There was one thing he was _not_ going to do.

“So what is my _personal_ liability for all of this debt? I can’t and won’t lose my apartment over it.”

“None, sir. It may have overlooked your notice that you haven’t been required to sign for anything. There’s no financial commitment on your part.”

By stared at Tsipis in disbelief. “Nothing?”

“Only your talent, time and energy. The Vorkosigan family trusts you.”

 _Oh, wonderful._ Ma Kosti’s delicious lunch turned to ashes in his mouth. That was a worse ball and chain than all the rest.

Something niggled at him. “Count Voralys has already paid me for the party decorations. Should that have gone through the business?”

He’d said the right thing. Tsipis beamed at him. “I appreciate your honesty. Most people wouldn’t have mentioned that. It’s refreshing. No, sir, that was a private arrangement before the business idea was mentioned. Your _further_ redecoration plans and the gardens will naturally need to be included.”

Later, they stood in the spacious office, _just off the Great Square._ By could actually see across to The Residence and the stairs leading to the main entrance. The light streamed in from two directions into the corner penthouse. Shoko’s was less than three minute’s walk away, and two minutes of that would be taken up in getting out of the building. It would be a wonderful place to work, and obviously any tenants in the block would have the highest security screening, as well as protection. There was an ImpSec missile defence system on the roof. No doubt Miles would be well at home here, too.

Tsipis offered to drop him off somewhere but By declined. He wanted to stay on and settle in, run some of the programs and try out the drafting table. Maybe just sit a while at his desk and contemplate his luck.

“May I say one thing, Vorrutyer, before I go? About your flamboyance?”

By sucked in a swift breath. He was tightening the screws, wasn’t he? There was _always_ a price to pay. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Go on.”

“Don’t ever lose it, sir. It’s one of your greatest assets.”

Tsipis left him gaping like a landed fish. That was _not_ what he had expected.

 

By the time Ivan and his men got back from their course By had all his concepts and quotes in place, ready for discussion. There were two definite bookings from the three enquiries he’d had regarding party decorations. He’d had another meeting with the expert from the Vorbarr Sultana museum, too, with a member of the Kareen Vorbarra trust roped in as well. The carpet was definitely special and they’d arranged to have it taken back to the museum for further research and dating. Dono was back from his District and expected him for dinner once he’d found a decent cook for Vorrutyer House. His diary had never looked so busy in years.

By called round to Voralys House in the afternoon. Ivan had just returned from lunch with Count Vorhalas and was, for Ivan, bouncing around like a pea on a drum. It was almost as if he was channelling his hyperactive cousin. A flowchart or a spreadsheet wasn’t going to cut it this time with everything he seemed to have on his mind. He wasn’t in much of a mood to talk about carpets, or decorating plans either. By gave up and listened to Ivan’s complaints about the press.

“Everything’s ready for the ceremony tomorrow, apart from someone to do the holovids. I can’t bear the thought of the press getting their nose in. What the twisty little grubs would do with it doesn’t bear thinking about. That sort of oath taking is a _private_ thing, By.”

“Would you like me to do it for you, Ivan? It’s just basic portrait work you want done, isn’t it? I won’t even charge you for it, if you feed me.”

Ivan looked surprised. “Would you, By? I’d really appreciate that.”

“My pleasure. What would you like me to wear? I don’t think my House uniform would be quite the thing.”

Ivan considered. “No, probably not. Can you do something subdued, though?”

By rolled his eyes and looked sideways at Ivan. “You don’t think I have a sense of the occasion, Ivan? Although I don’t think I’ve got anything _subdued_ , precisely. Subtle, maybe. I promise not to attract too much attention. Who’d be looking at _me_ with you in the room in all your glory, anyway?”

“True.” Ivan’s grin flashed across his face. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Dressed in his subtle dark blue tunic and trousers By did his best not to be noticed the next day at the ceremony. Ivan looked magnificent in his House dress uniform. He could do High Vor with bells on when he wanted to. Lady Alys looked fit to burst with pride, although she was very pale and elegant in her Voralys blue gown. By got his first look at Ivan’s adopted daughter, too, being as good as gold with her hand firmly clasped by Simon Illyan. There were a few good shots to be had there, to add to the album.

By caught sight of Ivan afterwards, sitting by himself at the side of the room, lost in thought. He shouldn’t be miserable on a day like today. After a quick shot he picked up two glasses of champagne and crossed the room to talk to him. Ivan had no idea he was there until By held out a glass for him. “It’s not like you to look melancholy, Ivan. Somebody walk over your grave?”

Ivan jumped to his feet in surprise. He grimaced, but took the proffered glass. “Nobody died, By. I was just thinking. You’re probably not used to seeing me do that. It’s funny how things turn out, sometimes.”

It was By’s turn to examine the contents of his own glass. “Yes, you’re right there. Who’d have thought I’d ever have a roof over my head and money in the bank?” He cracked a grin. “Not much money, mind you. You’re a miserly bugger, aren’t you, Voralys? I should have held out for double.”

Once the festivities began to die down the armsmen moved off to say goodbye to their guests and change into their working dress. By took a few more shots of the aftermath, then set to, helping to clear up the mess. The ballroom cleared out quickly once Ivan took little Marie off to her new bedroom. Only Simon Illyan and Lady Alys were left behind. They sat by one of the little round tables waiting for Ivan. By was surprised to notice how exhausted Lady Alys looked. He glanced around for a glass of water for her but before he could find a clean glass Ivan came back into the room. He couldn’t hear what they were talking about but all of a sudden Simon Illyan leapt to his feet. His face had turned to a blank mask as he turned on his heel and marched out. Ivan and Lady Alys rose. She held out a hand to Simon, who didn’t see her do it. Ivan was white with…anger, By realised. He should make himself scarce. They didn’t need witnesses for a family argument. He was half way to the staff door to the kitchens when he heard Ivan’s voice, hoarse with fear. He whirled around just in time to see Lady Alys fall into her son’s arms.

 _Shit!_ He flew across the room to help Ivan lay her down. Ivan fumbled for his chrono to press his screamer. By felt for a pulse and let go of his panicked breath when he found it, She was still breathing, too. “Put her on her left side. That’s it. And her chin up. She’s breathing, Ivan. Try and loosen off her dress. It’s too tight.”

There was a thunder of boots across the polished boards. By moved back as Fox and Major Karasavas took over. Once back on his feet he saw Simon Illyan, and the look on his face. “She’s fainted, sir, just fainted. Can you hear me? She’s just fainted.”

He wasn’t getting through. Simon Illyan was ready to do _murder_. By didn’t want his neck broken. He stood three paces back to try and talk him down. “Help’s coming, sir. She’s breathing and her pulse is fine.” It had been very rapid, but he wasn’t going to tell _him_ that.

At long last, although it was probably only five minutes or so, a team of emergency medtechs rushed in. By had heard their flyer land in the courtyard. They did a few brief checks, slipped on an oxygen mask and loaded Lady Alys onto a float pallet. With Ivan on one side and Simon on the other they rushed out to the medivac. Fox and By watched them scream upwards and off to ImpMil with a flight of ImpSec stingers in escort.

Major Karasavas appeared at his elbow. “What did you see, Vorrutyer?”

By couldn’t help him very much. They went back into the ballroom to re-enact the scene. He’d just finished telling the story for the second time when Armsman Kosa found him.

“Ma McIver is asking for help, sir. Miss Marie is very upset.”

“She wants me? There’s nothing I can do.”

“I think she wants anybody, sir. Miss Marie is screaming fit to bust." A look of anger crossed his face. "Some ImpSec goon burst in and said Lady Alys had been poisoned. He scanned the whole place with her sitting right there.”

Major Karasavas let out a frustrated sigh and nodded dismissal. “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to him. See what you can do to help, Vorrutyer, but don’t leave the building until I tell you.”

Once By reached the hall he could hear the screaming. He took the stairs two at a time but quailed at the door to Marie’s bedroom. What the hell was he supposed to do with a six year old? He’d never even _talked_ to a six year old.

Ma McIver saw him standing there. “Oh, look, Marie! Here’s someone come to see you!”

“My Ivan? Marie whirled around. “Oh!” Her face puckered up again. “You’re not My Ivan!”

By stepped forward quickly and sank down onto one knee in front of her. “No, honey, I’m Byerly. You saw me in the ballroom with Ivan.”

“I want my Ivan! Where is he? I’m _scared!_ That man scared me, and there was a _huge_ aircar in the courtyard.”

“Don’t be scared. It was only a medivac. Your Mamie had a little faint and Ivan and Papi Simon have taken her to the doctor.”

Marie’s eyes opened wider than ever. “She didn’t go to the _hospital_ , did she?”

By crossed his fingers behind his back. “No, she went to ImpMil.”

“She did go to the hospital! She did.”

“That’s where the doctor is. Ivan will come home and tell you all about it.”

Ma McIver held out her hand. “You come with me and have your bath, Marie.”

“No!” Her hands dug into the arms of her big armchair until her nails turned white. “I want my Ivan. I’m scared.”

By put his hands on his hips. “Oh, that’s a problem. I can fix sad. I’m not so good at scared. You know who _can_ fix scared, though?”

She shook her head at him. “No. Who?”

“I’m going to find the biggest toughest armsman ever, and he can fix scared really quickly. I’ll go get Fox, shall I? We are _not_ going to let you be sad or scared.”

She hadn’t budged from her chair when By returned with Fox in tow. He let the armsman do the talking.

“Miss Marie, Vorrutyer says you’re scared. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

“There’s a monster in my bathroom, Markie.”

“No problem.” Fox pulled his stunner out. “He’d better run or I’ll shoot him. That should fix that bathroom up for you.”

By felt a bit taken aback, but it seemed to do the trick for Marie. Once Fox had cleared the room she let Ma McIver take her in.

“You stay there, Markie. Don’t let the monster back in.”

Fox solemnly stood to attention outside the bathroom door. By looked at him. “She really is scared, isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t have to be scared. Nothing bad is going to happen to Marie in Voralys House unless it’s over my dead body, and all the other armsmen, too.”

“Has Karasavas worked out what happened?”

Fox shook his head. “There’s no sign of foul play yet. Preliminary scans are all negative, but it’s too early to tell.”

They waited in silence for a few more minutes until Marie came back out in her pyjamas. “Are you going to hop into bed now?” By asked hopefully.

“No, I’m sad.”

By looked at Fox. He silently handballed it right back to By. “Oh, well, what about some stories? Ma McIver can tell you some.”

“Can you tell me a story, Uncle Byerly?”

 _Uncle_ Byerly? He’d done nothing to deserve that promotion. “I’m just Byerly. You already have an Uncle Miles.”

“Oh, he won’t mind.”

Ma McIver motioned behind Marie’s back. By gave in and sat in the chair. Marie scrambled up beside him and snuggled onto his knee. By froze in shock. _Oh dear god_. Now what was he going to do? Ivan would have his hide.

Fox didn’t seem to worry about it. “Miss Marie likes this one.” He handed over a book. “I need to get back. I can leave her in safe hands now.”

By all but panicked. “Ma McIver. You stay here. _Please_.” Of course she couldn’t know, wouldn’t have heard the rumours. How his father had believed the vile lies Richars and others had whispered about him and his sister so long ago.

Marie put her hands round his neck and hugged him. “Uncle Byerly? I join in with _I think I can._ ”

He pulled himself together and started reading. Three books later she was still wide awake. By had run out of inspiration. “What’s your favourite colour, Marie? Did you know I’m going to be painting the house for Ivan?”

“Pink! You have to paint it pink. I love pink.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Ivan would damage me severely if I painted his house pink for him. There are lots of shades of pink. At least twenty, if you don’t count puce, and nobody should count puce. It sounds too much like puke, don’t you think?”

Marie giggled and clapped a hand across her mouth. She looked guiltily at Ma McIver. She whispered. “I’m not allowed to say puke. Tommy said puke and poo at the beach, when were at Vandeville. Mamie was very cross.”

“Did he? He was bold. Mamie will set Fox onto him next time if he’s not careful.”

“Harper says puke too. I heard him.”

“Well, we won’t say it. We can say rose, or blush, or carnation, or amaranth or lots more, all for pink. When I come back next time I’ll bring my data filer and show you them all.”

“But not puce.”

“Definitely no puce. It means squashed flea, did you know?”

She was getting sleepy now. By could feel her head getting heavier on his shoulder. “What’s a flea, Uncle Byerly?”

“It’s a little bug.” He bit his tongue just in time to add the bit about sucking blood. There was no way he was going to give her more grounds for nightmares.

Ma McIver smiled at him at last and held out her arms. “She's asleep. Thank you so much, sir. She’s always better with father figures. I’ll take her now.”

By stood up. Marie was a lightweight, no more than fifteen kilos, he estimated. “You turn back the bed, Ma McIver. I’ll pop her in.”

He pulled up the covers to her chin, but not before making sure Steggy was right there beside her.

Father figure. Ma McIver had called him a father figure. There was a first time for everything, wasn’t there? As he left the bedroom By could suddenly understand Ivan’s fierce protectiveness for the little girl.

 _Father figure._ ...He needed a drink.

 

 


	9. Respectability... What's that?

 

 

It was well into the evening before Ivan came home again, accompanied by Miles Vorkosigan. By saw the looks on their faces and relaxed. “Nothing too serious, then?”

“She’ll be fine. It’s a medical condition. No foul play involved.”

He hadn’t thought it was anything other than a medical condition, but this was Barrayar, after all. “Karasavas didn’t turn up anything. Ma Belka was mortified, but everyone knew it was nothing to do with her. She’s got some supper ready for you. I’ll go and let her know, shall I? I’ll be on my way and leave you two to talk. Babysitting isn’t really my thing.”

Ivan looked like By had sworn at him. “Babysitting? What were you doing _babysitting_? Was Marie upset? I didn’t think she knew anything about it.”

How thick could you be? The house had been full of storm troopers and a screaming lightflyer with sirens and flashing lights. Best not to mention the man who had searched Marie’s room, though. Ivan might do something he’d regret.

“It’s hard to miss an emergency lightflyer go past your window with all lights blazing. It landed in the courtyard, if you remember? I just read her a story or two and Ma McIver put her to bed. …She was there as well,” he added hastily.

Ivan looked guilty. “For pity’s sake, By. I’m not _worried_ about you babysitting Marie! I’m really grateful. I can’t imagine you doing anything like that, is all.”

That was fair. By couldn’t have imagined _himself_ doing anything like that until he’d had to.

“Neither could I, but needs must, after all. She called me Uncle Byerly. I reminded her she already had an Uncle Miles, but you can’t beat a six-year-old’s logic. She told me Uncle Miles wouldn’t mind.”

“Uncle Miles would pay good money to hear you called Uncle Byerly,” Miles cackled.

By bristled. What was so incredibly impossible about that? Anyone could be an uncle. Just look at his own Uncle Ges, _not_ that he was about to compare himself. By drew himself up. “For your information, Vorkosigan, I _am_ an uncle. My sister has two children that I know of, not that I’ve met them.”

Ivan asked By to stay for supper before harsher words were exchanged. He disappeared to check on Marie, leaving the two of them to eye each other off. Neither of them had much to say to the other.

“We need a drink.” The Lord Auditor presumed on his family relationship and stuck his head out of the door to talk to an armsman. In a very few minutes Harper returned with a bottle of Vorkosigan red that By recognised as one of the better ones he’d bought to stock Ivan’s cellar. He didn’t mind if he did. He would never have rated one on his own, after all. Harper had brought him _tea_ while they all waited.

Harper poured and By courteously took the first sip, a tacit acknowledgment of Miles’s lofty position. Lord Vorkosigan raised his glass in reply. “So, how hairy was it back here when the shit hit the fan?”

“ImpSec has never been known for its tact, but honestly, Miles, stomping into a little girl’s bedroom like that was plain stupid. She was having hysterics when I got there.”

“Not good. It’s a crazy world she’s got mixed up in. She might have been safer with a family back in the District.”

“So, you’re going to tell Ivan that, are you?”

“Not bloody likely. I have the wisdom of hindsight.” Miles smirked at him. “Ivan learning to cope with commitments is something to see, though.”

“Hmm. Good red.” By wasn’t about to denigrate Ivan in his own home, not behind his back, anyway. It was much more fun to do it to his face. Miles smirked again like he’d had something to do with it.

“My grandfather knew his stuff. This was bottled when I was five years old.”

“From the north slope of the vineyard, no doubt.”

Miles’s eyebrows snapped down. “Something wrong with it?”

“Didn’t I just say it’s a good red? Why so defensive? You wouldn’t know one slope of a vineyard from the other. The best wine comes from the north slope. The grapes can mature fully in a cool season.”

“I just drink the stuff.” Miles topped up his own glass and held out the bottle to By, who was happy to have another. “ _Let my liver rather heat with wine than my heart cool with mortifying groans._ ”

The quip brought a smile to Miles’ face, “Ekaterin told me you were good. _Good company, good wine, good welcome can make good people._ ”

It was By’s turn to smirk. “Two out of three isn’t bad, I suppose.”

That struck home. Miles snapped at him. “ _By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me,_ Vorrutyer.”

It was fun duelling with Miles Vorkosigan, but they had other things to be dealing with. “Ooh, you have a vicious streak, don’t you? I’m too tired to argue. _Give me a bowl of wine. In this I bury all unkindness._ ”

When Ivan arrived back in the room there was, fortunately, a glass left for him. He looked at the bottle but didn’t make any comment. He probably thought peace was worth it.

The supper was a lot better than anything By would have found for himself. Ivan and Miles tried to right the wrongs of the world while By just tucked in. It was all well above his pay grade. It was obvious, though, that neither of them knew very much about Louis Vorbataille and the way he liked to do business. They shouldn’t underestimate him. It was time to say something. “From what I know of Louis Vorbataille I’d put your armsmen on high alert, and have someone watch Ekaterin, too. He has a very vicious streak.”

Ivan took him seriously, he could see. Miles hadn’t thought of it so he was more dismissive, but for all his unconcern By just bet Ekaterin would have her protection doubled. As long as they all stayed safe that was all that mattered.

It was time to be going home, but Miles came up with one of his non-sequiturs. His mind never stayed on one subject for long. “Before we go any further, it’s really been nagging me. Why is there no carpet in this room? I’d swear there was one in here the first time we came to look around.”

Ivan had just been opening his heart about his struggles with his new job and all Miles wanted to know about was the carpet. By couldn’t help laughing at his lack of empathy. It might be the time to tell Ivan, though. “Ivan didn’t like the carpet, Miles. It’s gone off to be cleaned. I was going to mention it to you, Ivan, but you’ve been a bit busy the last couple of days. Are you happy to sell it? I have an interested buyer.”

Ivan obviously couldn’t give a stuff about carpets. “Absolutely. Get whatever you can for it. The funds can go towards a can of paint.”

He was impervious to hints, wasn’t he? By didn’t know what the carpet was worth, but it was obviously valuable. “It might be worth more than you think, you know.”

Ivan wasn’t interested. In the scheme of things, it could keep. By went home and left the cousins talking. He needed to edit all the holos he’d taken today. Ivan would be interested in _them_ , at least.

 

Dono was back in town and By caught up with him for lunch. The two of them shared the same Vorrutyer dark eyes and long, black eyelashes. Dono was shorter and stockier. She’d been a voluptuous woman and made a compact, powerful man with the extra muscle development testosterone gave him. He’d kept the beard, too, dark and sleek. He looked every inch the count in his House uniform. The sombre blue with grey trim suited him. It was good to see his cousin looking so happy; Olivia Koudelka was obviously doing him the world of good and he wasn’t walking with a limp any more, either. It took them a while to catch up on all the gossip, Richars’ current predicament heading the list to their mutual satisfaction. When By told Dono about redecorating Voralys House his cousin perked up his ears.

“Excellent. Come back with me after this and take a look at the old place. I think it may be past redemption but I can’t afford to buy somewhere completely new just yet. I can’t bring Olivia home to it the way it is now, though. I’ve had cleaning crews in, but that’s all."

“I hope you’ve had it swept for bugs, then, and not the crawling sort. I’ve learned the hard way about security.”

“You can do that too, as long as I get a family discount. I probably couldn’t afford you otherwise.” Dono was only half joking.

“You’ll look good on my portfolio. It does all have to go through the books now or the Vorkosigan’s man of business will be after me. He has high standards of probity."

Dono nodded. “Well, that’s what were going to be needing, too, if Vorrutyers are ever going to be trusted in this town again. Starting with my wedding. Will you be my second, By? I’d like that.”

By blinked a few times. He didn’t know quite what to say.

Dono saw his hesitation. “I mean it, you know. I’m not just asking because you’re my last decent cousin. I could have asked Ivan but I’d rather ask you.”

“I’d be honoured to be your second, Dono. I hadn’t thought…after Richars—”

“I told you at the time, that’s all water under the bridge. Your heart’s in the right place. Good, that’s settled then.”

By flicked on his data recorder. He needed to do something until he recovered his composure. “Well, in that case, take a look at these flowers I saw the other day. I thought they’d be perfect for your wedding decor. Would you like me to show them to Olivia?”

 

With almost regular money coming in over and above his ImpSec pittance By went shopping for a new suit. He’d needed another ever since Marcel Vorevreaux had so rudely wrecked his other one. _Monsieur Sebastien,_ his favourite tailor, was roused to enthusiasm when By actually paid something off his account, too. Sebastien was as outré as By in his secret heart. Stuffy Vor conservatives had been wearing him down. With Tsipis’ endorsement still fresh in his mind By looked through the new range of autumn colours and fabrics with interest. There it was, just the thing. Sebastien clapped his hands.

“Oh, _excellent_ choice, sir. There are very few people who could wear brillberry magenta and get away with it. Had you thought about something with studs? Very red-blooded male."

“Studs? No. Studs would go with black. We need something softer, now that my hair’s growing back again.”

Sebastien flipped on a fashion database and scrolled through to an eighteenth century portrait from old Earth.

“This is a portrait of John Mortlock, of Cambridge. Forget about the powdered hair, but aren’t the ruffles divine, sir? He looks perfectly masculine, but for the day, it was certainly power dressing at its best. _Such_ a shame the fashion died away. Waistcoats are always attractive. What do you think?”

Ruffles. By felt a smile bubble up. Oh, yes. _Ruffles_. Ivan would just about choke. He nodded to Sebastien. “Let’s do it.”

The suit worked a treat when By finally went back to Voralys House. Marie was there, too, none the worse for her upset although Ivan had a better understanding of what had happened. By just about cracked up when Marie told him he had panache. Simon Illyan wasn’t quite as amused when Marie starting recounting the tale of a large lady in a frilly swimsuit down in Vandeville. Illyan hustled her off when she started telling tales out of school. Once they’d stopped laughing By brought out the vids of the Oath ceremony. Ivan flipped through them, then went back to the start to look more slowly. “By, these are really great. I almost love the informal ones better than the portraits.” He singled out one of Simon bending over to Marie, who looked up at him with a face full of mischief. “I’ll get this printed and framed. It’s the perfect birthday gift for m’mother.”

They moved on to By’s decorating ideas. With the new program Tsipis had given him he could call up virtual pictures of the rooms. “Oh, good. You haven’t changed the carvings in the dining room. I rather like them.”

“I should think you would. They’d have to be national treasures. It would be a sacrilege to touch them. Speaking of which, I really need to let you know about the carpet.”

Ivan cut him off, _again_. “Before I forget, can you come to dinner? I’ve got the Vorkosigans coming around, and you can show Ekaterin the plans. I think she’ll like them, but you know what females are like. I want Aunt Cordelia to talk to m’mother about the problem with Marie, too. You might help to keep them civil. They won’t _fight_ in front of you. Anyway, By, I have to rush. Harper will see you out.”

He was dismissed, just like that. It was the difference between a friend and an employee, By realised. He was neither one nor the other.

Ekaterin loved his plans. He helped Ivan show her round Voralys House while they waited for Cordelia and Aral to arrive. They finished up in the library where Ekaterin looked at the virtual display By called up.  _“_ What were you going to do in here? I saw the carpet on the newsvid. Is it coming back? The floor looks a little austere, although the parquet is wonderful. Oh, I see, a solid colour. Good choice.”

By clicked his fingers. “That reminds me. Ivan, the carpet actually cleaned up wonderfully. It’s all hand made, you know. I had it looked at. The experts tell me it’s over seven hundred knots per square inch. Are you sure you don’t want it back in here?”

Ivan shook his head. “I need to talk to you, about that. By. I might have…um…fibbed a bit to Kou. Commodore Koudelka.”

“Oh, Ivan, for heaven’s sake. I know who Kou is. My cousin is marrying his daughter, in case that skipped your attention. What lies did you tell him?”

“Not _lies_ , precisely. I just implied I could get a thousand marks for the carpet. I’m donating the proceeds to Delia’s wedding. We’ll cope with Olivia’s later. Do not, under any circumstances, let Kou find out what you actually get for it. I don’t want to hurt his pride.”

Hurt his pride? Kou could probably _retire_ on the proceeds of the carpet sale. “You have no idea, do you?” Before he could go on Ivan had changed tack again and started talking about family portraits.

It would serve Ivan right if he sold the damned carpet, gave him a thousand marks and kept the rest. By toyed with the idea for perhaps thirty seconds. No, he realised, he couldn’t do that to a _friend_.

By hung back when Count and Countess Vorkosigan arrived, but Cordelia sought him out to give him the same hug she gave Ivan. After a startled second By relaxed into it and hugged her back. There was nothing false about Cordelia Vorkosigan. She really meant it. He was _included_ in this family party, as far as she was concerned. He was so included in the family party she didn’t even warn him when she delved straight into Ivan’s family problems as they settled down to drink coffee in the library.

_Oh, this wasn’t appropriate._ He shot to his feet. “Ivan, May I show Miles, Ekaterin and Count Vorkosigan your wine cellar? I think they’ll be impressed.”

Ivan looked like he’d rather be going to the dentist, but he was also grateful. “What? Oh, yes, thanks, By, of course.”

By ushered the others out. “I think you might be surprised, Count. There’s a fair selection of Vorkosigan Estate wines down here.”

“I’d be surprised if there wasn’t,” Aral replied. He waited until the library door closed behind them. “Well done, Vorrutyer. We won’t go back until Cordelia needs someone to mop up the blood.”

Miles looked disappointed to have missed out on the fun. His father turned him around and pointed him across the hall. “Sometimes, son, discretion is the better part. Let’s go see these wines.”

Ekaterin hung back for a moment. She put her hand on By’s arm. “ _He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both_.”

By kissed her hand and tucked it under his elbow. “ _Holy, fair, and wise is she; the heavens such grace did lend her, that she might admired be._ ”

Ekaterin let out a trill of laughter. “Flatterer.”

Miles’ head whipped round at the sound. If looks could kill By would have been stone dead on the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Ekaterin. I left you behind.” He rushed back and jealously repossessed her arm. By had a very good sense of self-preservation. He backed off.  _“How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!”_

Ekaterin looked back over her shoulder. “ _I can no other answer make, but, thanks, and thanks._ ”

They’d hardly got down to the cellar before Simon Illyan came to find them. “The coast is clear and no one has gone to the hospital. Cordelia asked me to fetch a bottle of the good stuff back with me.”

By pointed to the racks. “I know exactly where they are. Let’s get two, shall we?”

 

Lady Alys looked like she’d chewed a lemon. It didn’t take much of By’s considerable intelligence to work out that she’d been on the losing end of the argument, but she was gracious in defeat. After a glass of Ivan’s excellent red it was time for him to leave the family to their own devices and talk about things more comfortably. Ivan saw him to the front door.

 “Thanks for everything, By. I won’t be around for a few days. We’re heading down to the District for the weekend. It might be your chance to get some of the decorating done. I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

 It sounded like a plan. “Sure thing, Ivan. I’ll get a crew organised. I won’t call unless there’s a problem. I should be able to get the library done first as there’s not actually a lot to do with all those shelves in there.”

 It was a fine night and he’d been quite abstemious over dinner. He was hardly unsteady on his feet at all. The ImpSec guard at the main gate waved him through and he set off towards the river and the Old Town. He was almost up to the Star Bridge when a voice came out of the darkness.

 “Vorrutyer. Just the person I want to see.”

 

 


	10. Busy, busy, busy.

 

 

_Rookie mistake!_ By whirled around to face the voice. His guts churned when he remembered he’d left his stunner at home. There should have been more people around. It was still early, for him, anyway. Why weren’t there any people around?

_Two_. There were two of them at least. Not so bad, unless _they_ had stunners or worse. By sighed. It was only the second time he’d worn his lovely new suit.

A shape materialised out of the gloom. “What have you got to say for yourself, then?”

“Nigel, for heaven’s sake! You scared me half to death.” By forced his body to relax, to appear non-threatening. Nigel Vorolney, with an unfortunate armsman in tow as babysitter. _He_ might still have some sense, if Nigel did something silly.

“ _You_ can call me _Lord_ Nigel, you ponce. Where’s my vid recorder?”

“There’s no need to be nasty, Nigel. What vid recorder?” By backed up slowly. At last he felt the parapet of the Star Bridge behind him and leaned against it, crossing his arms as if he was ready for a chat.

Vorolney wasn’t in a mood to be reasonable. He swayed slightly, but By couldn’t detect any trace of alcohol, and he was close enough. Drugs then, perhaps that purple popper Vorevreaux had been dishing out at Ivan’s do.

His face twisted into an ugly scowl. “You know perfectly well what fucking vid recorder. I want it back. Now!”

“I don’t have it, Nigel. I have never had it. If Count Voralys doesn’t have it you’d better ask your friends.” _If you’ve got any, you lech._

Vorolney fumbled in his pocket. By caught the faintest gleam of a knife as the blade flicked out.

He sighed. “Now you really are being silly. Don’t make me take that off you.” He straightened up, dropping his knees slightly to balance, and let his arms fall to his sides.

The armsman’s voice came out of the shadow. “ _Lord Nigel_. You don’t want to be doing this, my lord! The guard patrol will be along in a minute.”

_Ah._ Yes, the armsman had retained some sense. He’d just let By know help would be close at hand. Furious, Vorolney whirled around. “You shut your mouth, Kravik! I don’t need _you_ to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do. When I want your advice I’ll ask for it!”

By took the opportunity to back up a few more paces, towards the ornate lamp post lighting the span. There would be a surveillance camera hidden in its elaborate scrolls of wrought iron. By the time Vorolney turned back By was four metres away.

He snorted in derision. “Scared? You should be, you pathetic faggot.” He came at a run, deaf to the despairing shout of the armsman behind him. By sidestepped at the last second. One hand caught Vorolney’s wrist and the other elbow came up into his neck. He slammed the knife into the stonework of the parapet at the same time as his foot hooked around Vorolney’s boot, throwing him off-balance across his hip and into the stone wall. The knife clattered over the edge and disappeared into the darkness. There was the faintest of splashes from below.

“I told you not to do that,” By complained. He crouched to meet the armsman, but there was no need. The man stepped into the light with his hands raised and open.

“I’ll just take him home, shall I sir? There’s no need to trouble the municipal guard with this. You should go about your business.”

Panting slightly, By looked down at the wheezing Vorolney. “I should have him charged with littering! The river is polluted enough as it is. If he ever does get clean, Kravik, is it?” He paused for the armsman to nod. “See if you can persuade him he was lucky he didn’t follow the knife into the river. Next time, he will, _if_ he’s stupid enough to try for a next time.”

Kravik bent over to haul his charge to his feet. “He’s still got a bit of growing up to do. His father won’t be pleased you were disturbed, sir. I think he’ll finally do something about it now.”

He straightened Lord Nigel’s tunic quite forcefully and dusted him down. “You come along with me, my lord. We’ll get you cleaned up.” He nodded to By. “Give my regards to Szabo the next time you see him. Now there’s a happy man for you.” _Not like some,_ being the inference. Kravik dragged the groggy lordling back the way they’d come. By stood for a few minutes, watching them. He rubbed at his knuckles where they’d scraped along the raw stone. His hand came away smeared with blood. _Fool boy!_ He might have felt sorry for him if he didn’t have Evelina Vortien’s haggard face bright in his memory. He found his handkerchief, fumbling across his body with the wrong hand and wrapped it round his wounds. _Can’t let that ruin my new suit…_

He was still watching as a municipal guard ground car sighed up beside him. “Everything all right, sir?” The patroller eyed him off suspiciously.

“Certainly, officer. Just contemplating the beauties of the night sky reflecting on the water.”

“It might be best to do that from the safety of your own home, sir,” the man suggested, quite pleasantly.

By nodded acknowledgement. “On my way.” With one last glance behind him he set off for his apartment. _What’s done cannot be undone._ Lesson learned, though. He wasn’t allowed to have his stunner in the presence of the Viceroy and the Lord Auditor, but he should have checked it in at the guard post. He _knew_ never to drop his guard. For a few days now he’d been acting like a normal person. Wishful thinking, that was.

Vorolney was the second of his sources to be struck off the Winterfair card list. If this kept up he’d be no use at all to ImpSec.  _Now there was a thought…_

By walked the long way round to his street, doubling back twice. There was no sign of anyone following. He let himself in at last, shrugged out of his jacket, thankfully not even wrinkled, and sat down at his tiny table to bathe and disinfect his scrapes and scratches. He sat there a long time, looking at his hands. _Thinking_.

There was no help for it, he couldn’t hide the scabs the next morning. He covered them up with medicated healing pads as best he could, but it was still obvious he’d been in a fight. He had to go out; they were starting the decorating today. He signed his ImpSec-screened decorating crew into Voralys House and set them to work packing up the library and preparing the walls. After a few acrimonious discussions with the foreman about ham-handed imbeciles and taking care of priceless artifacts they got along tolerably well together. It only took three hours to have the room stripped out. While the men were assembling their grav-scaffold By wandered round the empty shelves, checking for dirt or loose plaster. Something caught his eye at the end of one of the bookcases, next to the chimney breast. It was a narrow crack, but it extended from the top to the bottom of the bookcase in neat precision. He couldn’t see, but it probably ran all the way across the back of the shelves as well. And, was that another one? _Oh, yes it was_. That crack extended across the polished oak skirting at floor level, almost unnoticeable.

Once the grav-scaffold was ready to go By sent the crew off to have a break in the near-deserted kitchen. They couldn’t do much harm there and Ma Belka had left tea, coffee and snacks for them in the staff refrigerator. As soon as the door closed behind them he started investigating. Each section of bookcase shelving had an ornate oak and acorn emblem carved as a finial at either side. It only took a minute to find the right one. With a twist and a click one whole section of shelving about a metre wide slid outwards and upwards on silent gas struts. A sturdy metal ladder fixed to the now obviously double chimney wall led up and down, out of sight.

By didn’t have a torch with him. Hastily he found the switch and closed everything up again. Did Ivan know about this? It would never have been visible until the large volumes that protruded out from the shelves right here were removed. The more he thought about it the more certain he was Ivan didn’t have a clue. The escape tunnel might have been original to the house but that mechanism to open the panel had nothing to do with the Time of Isolation. Vorclarence, or his father at a pinch, had had it installed. Where did it go? In all likelihood up to the main bedroom, but down?

Miles Vorkosigan would love this. He probably had just the same at Vokosigan House, not that any of them would ever find out. Not that any of them _should_ find this out, either, especially the painting crew. By grabbed the controls for the grav-scaffold and manoeuvred it in front of the escape hatch. When the crew came back to work he’d finished masking up that section of the woodwork.

The foreman looked like he wanted to have _another_ acrimonious discussion. “Do you have a ticket to operate that machinery, sir?” He demanded.

By shook his head and climbed down. “No, sorry. I’ll leave everything up to you from now on. I just wanted to have a play. No harm done.”

The foreman sniffed. “Fortunately not. If it happens again I’ll have to report the matter.”

By tried to look solemn. “Naturally. It would be you duty to do so.”

Only partially mollified the foreman ordered his crew back to work. By the end of the shift everything was masked, the floor covered and the room ready for painting. By counted them out through the security scanner and made sure they all left the perimeter. He ducked into the cloakroom and cleaned himself up. He spent a good ten minutes trying to get his hair just right. _He_ had another appointment before he finished for the day.

There was a Vorrutyer armsman standing outside the house. By waved a half-salute to Joris as he walked up to the door and pressed the bell. He waited, then waited some more and finally pressed the bell again. Olivia Koudelka answered eventually. She had a twinkle in her eye and the top button of her blouse was fastened in the wrong buttonhole.

“Interrupt something, did I?” By inquired sweetly. “I was expected, wasn’t I?”

She smiled her wonderful, sunny smile. “Of course you were, Byerly. Come on in. Dono and I were just…just—” She broke off as a tinge of blush highlighted her cheekbones.

“ _Just_ don’t let Kou find out. I’m surprised he and Drou left you here on your own for the weekend.”

“Mama said she trusted us, and she can. We’ve actually been cooking cake. You’re just in time to help us eat it.”

Olivia showed him through to the kitchen. His cousin the count stood by the kitchen sink with a wash cloth wiping cake icing out of his beard. By decided not to ask.

“Just in time, By,” Dono greeted him. “Can you believe this is the first time I’ve ever made cake?”

By snorted at the claim. “Did you really _cook_? It was never one of your…er…accomplishments. I’m sure there’s a first time for everything, though.”

Dono’s dazzling smile flashed out through his damp beard. “I helped, at least,” he protested.

“You helped lick the bowl, you mean.” Olivia bustled about, putting the water on to boil and finding plates and napkins. Eventually they all settled round the kitchen table to drink tea and eat carrot cake with cream cheese topping.

“Carrots. Very healthy,” Dono mumbled half way through his second slice.

“Carrots make you see in the dark,” By added, not averse to a second slice himself.

“It tastes good. We don’t need an excuse.” Olivia confined herself to the one slice, although she looked fondly at the serving plate. “Perhaps we should discuss the wedding, though. That’s why we’re meeting here, after all.”

Dono noticed By’s hand all of a sudden. “Hey, what have you been doing?” He reached over to take hold of By’s wrist. “What does the other guy look like, and, more to the point, who was it?”

“Not in front of the fiancée,” By attempted to pull his hand away, and failed. Dono’s gaze was level and unswerving. He wanted an answer.

By tried again. “Nothing you need worry about, seriously.”

Dono relented. “Don’t make any more enemies, By. We have enough to go around already.”

“Suffice to say it wasn’t a new one. An old acquaintance, in fact. We’ve had a…falling out…I suppose you could call it, but enough of this, we’re here about your wedding. What can I help you with?”

“Our wedding. Ooh!” Olivia looked at Dono and smiled mistily.

“Our wedding.” Dono looked back and reached for her hand. By watched the pair of them making eyes at each other and groaned. It was going to be a _long_ evening. Shame to let that cake go to waste…

 

They took delivery of Ivan’s new carpet the next morning. The painting crew had got on quickly once all the preparation had been done and the library was shaping up very nicely. If they could finish today there’d be a whole day to allow the paint to dry and air, and for him to dress the room before Ivan got back from Voralys District. There was another little contretemps with the foreman, but nothing serious; By could deal with prima donnas. They were beginning to come to terms with each other by the time the last of the masking was removed. By had made sure _he_ did the shelves next to the fireplace. They’d be best of friends by the time the house was finished. _No more than that._ By suspected the foreman wished otherwise. He was going to have to set some ground rules as he wanted to go on working with the man. He had a deft hand with detailing, picking out the plasterwork above the fireplace with finicking attention to detail. It looked superb. He was nearly as finicky as By was himself. They’d make a good team professionally. Not otherwise.

At last they rolled out the carpet, hung the new curtains and replaced the furniture. If he worked late he wouldn’t have to come back in the morning. After they put all the books back By sent the crew home and pottered around with the cushions and ornaments until he had the room looking just the way he wanted it. The whole concept sprang to life, especially with the final touch of an arrangement of delphiniums and hydrangeas By had ordered in from his new contact to stand in the empty fireplace. He took a series of holovids when it was all done. Very nice. _Very nice indeed._

 

The next morning he slept in. He surfaced around 1100 hours to make himself a coffee and scan his messages. Time to relax. 

Who was he kidding? Evelina Vortien had invited him to escort her to a party. He snickered just a little when he read it. It looked like poor Kravik had drawn the short straw again.

_Byerly, dear, would you take me? I promised Mama I wouldn’t go to these things on my own and Nigel is_ indisposed _. His father, the brute, has shipped him off to Bonsanklar to recover. All he has with him is an ogre of an armsman. He won’t be back for simply ages…_

If he took Evelina to this party he’d have to make sure he got her home again, too. She probably thought he was safe, because she, like everyone else, thought he wasn’t that way inclined. Not entirely true, but she _would_ be safe with him. He wasn’t a cradle robber. If he took her she might just _stay_ safe for one evening at least. She’d be the perfect cover, too. He could crawl to Marcel, who would doubtless be there, and maybe work his way back into his good graces…

The thought sickened him. By couldn’t finish his coffee. He pushed it to one side and punched in Evelina’s number code. It was time to go back to work in his proper job.

There was another message, too. The Kareen Vorbarra trust wanted to talk to him. He arranged to meet and fixed up a time for the next day. He could let Ivan know what was going on when he went to see him about the secret in the library. It was all go, go, go. He couldn’t really remember for the minute what his old life had been like, switching from boredom to sheer terror, not to mention near starvation, and back again for month after month, year after year. Existing, really. Certainly not living. To be able to deal with beauty, and colour, and normal people was…was balm to his spirit. Yes, that’s what it was.

It took him about thirty seconds to remember what his old life had been like when he fronted up to Evelina’s door to pick her up. Stashya Vorlynkin let him in. The apartment she shared with Evelina made his eyes water before he stepped over the threshold. They’d been smoking something. He tried not to inhale too deeply. Stashya wrapped herself all over him and stuck her tongue down his throat. If she had any underwear on he was a monkey’s uncle. She only stopped to ask a question.

“Where have you been all my life, Byerly?”

So that’s what they’d been smoking. He’d only ever known it as _pencil sharpener_. He didn’t think he’d heard what the girls called it. Before he could prise himself away to answer Evelina came out of her bedroom and screeched at her flatmate. “Hands off him! He’s _mine_ for the night. If you keep that up we won’t let you ride with us.”

She got between the two of them and pulled By off to one side. “I told Mama we were going to Vormercier House but we’ll only stay there an hour or so. Marcel’s got some new samples. We can go all back to his place after and try them out.”

Just what he wanted to hear, but it might not be that easy. “Only if he’s forgiven me. We fell out at Ivan’s party, remember.”

Evelina waved away his objections. “Remember? I don’t even remember _going_ to Ivan’s party! Don’t worry about it. Marcel will take anybody’s money.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly. “I take it you’ve _got_ some money, By. I don’t get my allowance for another three weeks.”

So that's why he'd been invited. ImpSec weren’t going to like this. He hadn’t had a fight over his expense account for weeks. He smiled at her. “Of course, Evelina. I’ve got some money.”

 

 


	11. No legacy is so rich as honesty

 

 

 _Urghh…_ The sound of his comconsole roused By from a semi-stupor. Even purging his body when he staggered home at dawn hadn’t saved him from the effects of Marcel Vorevreaux’s latest mind bender. He could barely see as he punched the accept. Ivan. The _swine._

“Shit, Ivan, it’s not even 0930 hours! You have a very sadistic streak, do you know that?”

It was hard to talk to Ivan when all he wanted to do was throw up and crawl back into his bed. Ivan didn’t even mention the library; perhaps he hadn’t seen it yet. He was talking about Marie. By didn’t need thanks for reading her a few books and taking her mind off things. _He_ should be grateful, though. He might have slept right through his appointment if Ivan hadn’t disturbed him.

“Actually, Ivan, I do need to thank _you_ for waking me up. I have an appointment with a member of the board of the Kareen Vorbarra Trust at 1200 hours. I’ll need to look my best for that.” Wasn’t he going to say anything? Apparently not. “Aren’t you going to ask me what it’s all about?”

No, he wasn’t. He was far too busy to listen properly and By was too nauseous to insist. “You’ll thank me when it’s too late. I’ll call round.”

Half an hour in the shower still wasn’t really enough to settle him down completely but it had to do. By wrote and filed his report to Miles Vorkosigan and then it was just about time to smarten up and go out. He was acting as Ivan’s agent today and dressed accordingly in his dark blue tunic and trousers. Very conservative, if you didn’t count the shirt. He had to have _some_ spark of individuality, after all.

They were meeting at the Vorbarr Sultana museum, to look at the carpet again and finally settle what they were going to do with it. The curator from Vorhartung had tagged along as well and introduced By to Bertil Vorgustavson. He was Lord Auditor Vorgustavson’s nephew and had the happy task of spending his uncle’s money as well as purchasing for the trust. They stood around the carpet, laid out in all its clean glory in a vacant gallery. The textiles expert he’d first met was _twittering_.

“Vorrutyer, I’d like to appeal to your sense of national pride. The museum desperately wants to be able to exhibit this carpet. With the aid of the Kareen Vorbarra trust we’re able to give you a very good offer for it. It might not match a private collector’s bid, but consider this, if you send it to auction you’ll lose twenty percent of the final bid amount in commission, and the carpet may very well never be seen again by the general public. That would be a great crime.”

She was so _earnest_. By wanted the museum to have the carpet, but he had a duty to Ivan. He found a pad of flimsies and handed three sheets out, to Vorgustavson, the Vorhartung curator and the museum expert.

“Could you please write down what you think the market value of this carpet is? Vorgustavson, if you could estimate what your uncle might pay for it, that would be a great help. I know I can trust your integrity in a matter like this.”

He took the folded flimsies to one side to look at them. The first one had him sucking in a deep breath. The second two sent his head reeling. The lowest quote, from the museum, was two hundred thousand marks. The other two were a cool quarter of a million. They all evened out to much the same, really. By felt his eyes watering. _Oh, Ivan._ He coughed to clear his throat and give him a moment to clear his thoughts.

“I’m going to recommend my principal accept the trust’s offer of two hundred thousand marks.”

There was a concerted sigh from the three others. Two were of relief and one was disappointment. By had a sneaking suspicion the curator from Vorhartung had been hoping for a fat commission from a private buyer for giving them the tip. Too bad. “I can only recommend, however. The final decision is, of course, up to him. I’ll go and speak to him now and get back to you with a final answer as soon as possible."

He took one last look at the carpet, glowing like a garden of jewels even in the dim light of the display gallery. It was good.

Ivan wasn’t home when he got to Voralys House. By popped down to the kitchen to say hello to Ma Belka and maybe cadge something a little wholesome to ease his aching stomach. She was very pleased to see him. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome so after a tea and a snack he wandered back up to the hall to talk to Harper, who had the door duty.

“Have you seen the library, Harper? What do you think?”

“I haven’t been in there today, sir. Night duty would have been in, but he’s off shift now.”

 _How disappointing._ Didn’t they care, these Philistines?

Harper must have seen something in By’s face. “Let me check the log, sir. Devaux should have mentioned it.”

He flicked through a few data screens and read a short report. “Here you go, sir…I’m sure Count Voralys wouldn’t mind you seeing this. _0100 hours. Principals all retired and patrols commenced._ In the notes section there’s a comment. _Didn’t recognise the library. Excellent job_.”

“Well, I’m glad _somebody_ likes it. I suppose I’ll just have to wait for the count.”

It was only five minutes later that Ivan returned. He looked tired. Well, that made two of them. They shook hands and By took a pink carnation out of his buttonhole and gave it to Marie.

“Uncle By, thank you. It’s so pretty!”

He smiled at her. “Why don’t you go and show Ma McIver, Marie? It should go in some water. I have to talk to your Ivan and we might be a while.”

“Make sure you say goodbye before you go. I want to show you a picture.” Marie ran away clutching her flower. Fox followed her up the stairs, a quiet shadow she didn’t even notice.

“Wine, By?” Ivan led the way into his study. Rats. Not the library. “Is this about the decorations?”

“In a way.” He waited while Harper poured wine for them, and took the first sip.

Ivan took a grateful swallow. “So, When are you planning to start?”

Some deity or other would give him strength if he prayed hard enough for it. By closed his eyes and sighed. Ivan would find the library sooner or later, but he really needed to tell him about the escape hatch. “There’s something more important.”

“I’m really busy today, By. Can’t this wait?”

“Not so fast, Ivan. No, it can’t wait. Come with me.”

By marched off, not waiting to see if Ivan followed him or not. He stopped by the ready room and poked his head in. Armsman Fox came up behind him. “Looking for someone, sir?”

By jumped. For such a large man Fox could sneak up on one. “Armsman, could I trouble you to come with me, please, and bring a torch with you? It’s important.”

Fox gave him a strange look but nipped into the room to find a torch and did as he was bid. Ivan had caught up with him at last. He looked decidedly unimpressed. 

“For god’s sake, By, I haven’t got time for all your dramas—"

By cut him off. “Yes, Ivan. Yes you do. This can’t wait.”

He ushered them both into the library and shut the door firmly behind him.

“What the—Oh!” Ivan stopped and stared. “Why didn’t you _say_ something? This is…it’s _great_ , By. I love it!”

The moment was spoiled. He didn’t want thanks any more. “Thank you very much. Just stand right there for a minute.”

By crossed to the shelves. He couldn’t resist a little bit of drama. “Open Sesame!” He twiddled the knob and the panel rose soundlessly. The heavy-duty struts had no trouble coping with the load of heavy books.

“Shit!” Ivan gaped at the opening. “Nobody tells me anything.”

“I didn’t think you knew. Personally, I’m not so worried about that ladder going up, but we need a big strong hero with a torch to check out what happens when you go down.”

“This place has been searched _twice_. How the hell did Impsec not find this?”

Fox spoke up. “If there are no electronic sensors or mechanisms, the void looks just like part of the chimney. There are probably no biologicals or explosives, either, which means it _should_ be safe.”

He wandered over to poke his head into the space and look around carefully, feeling for sensors or surprises. “Want me to take a look, sir?”

Ivan nodded. “I’ll come with you. _I’m_ not afraid of spiders, at least not little ones.” He looked _most_ unenthusiastic.

Fox shook his head. “Best not. If I don’t come back or you hear a big bang, call ImpSec.”

Ivan heaved a sigh of relief. He looked at By. “I really don’t like small spaces and I wouldn’t trust you for a minute not to close it up on me. The last time I climbed down a chimney it all ended in tears.”

“Now, would I do a thing like that?” By tried to look innocent. It didn’t work. Ivan just snorted. They waited They waited another ten minutes. Even By felt uneasy.

“Do you think something’s gone wrong,” Ivan asked. “Gas, or something?” He tried his com link but the signal was blocked. By was going to have to use his initiative. At least he wasn’t wearing his best suit.

“Should I get another torch and go take a peek?”

Ivan looked indecisive. “I really shouldn’t let you—”

Just at that moment the library door opened and Fox walked back in, none the worse for wear apart from some dust and a remnant cobweb in his hair. “Interesting,” he remarked.

“Where does it go?” Ivan walked over to peer down the shaft. “Outside, obviously, but I’d have to be really desperate.”

“It’s a fairly straight tunnel, only two kinks to avoid a direct line of sight. It goes under the road and comes out in the parking garage at the office block opposite. I’d say you have a shiny new groundcar parked over there. You own that building too, if I remember correctly from the asset list I read. It’s leased to an accounting firm, apart from some of the parking bays. I’ll check it properly tomorrow. Anyway, there’s no way in from the other end. The only latch is on the inside, like a mechanical fire escape. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I like your optimism. I should have it closed off. My bedroom is directly above here. I don’t want any nocturnal visitors not on the pre-approved list.”

Fox didn’t look worried. “I think you’ll find it’s a one-way switch up there, sir, from the outside. This should be the only hatch with the two-way switch.”

Ivan firmly closed the shelves. “Just wonderful. Who else knows about this, do you think?”

“We can check with Sheridan back in New Sheffield, but it could well have been only the senior armsman, who’s dead now."

“Yes, Walton. You never met him, did you? If he knew he’s telling no tales now.”

Fox went off to investigate the bedroom. By steered Ivan back to the study and pointed him to his chair.

“So, Ivan. Apart from that little surprise, I have another one for you. You’d better sit down. The Kareen Vorbarra Trust for the Arts have made an offer for your carpet. I think it’s a fair offer, but I did have three valuations done. Due diligence, don’t you know? They’re scared you’re going to send it to auction but I said perhaps I could persuade you to let it go to the Museum of Barrayar for public display.”

Ivan looked at him. “By, what in three worlds are you on about? The Kareen Vorbarra trust for the Arts wants to buy my old carpet?”

“I did try to tell you. Even seven hundred knots to the square inch meant nothing to you, did it?”

“Should it?”

“God give me strength.” By rolled his eyes. “Ivan, you’ve been offered _two hundred thousand marks_ for your old carpet. It’s actually utterly priceless. The only other example like it is only half the size, and that’s in the Imperial Museum in Vorhartung Castle. It was rescued from The Residence after the fire.”

Ivan obviously thought he was pulling his leg and was trying his best to humour him. “So what were the three evaluations you had done?”

“Two hundred thousand was the lowest one. The curator at The Residence thought it would be worth at least a quarter of a million.”

Ivan looked uncertain all of a sudden. “You…you’re not actually serious, are you?”

By wanted to tear his hair out but he’d spent nearly fifteen minutes styling it just right. He confined himself to smacking the heel of his hand against his forehead. “If it wasn’t treason I’d thump you! I’m deadly serious. Your carpet is two hundred years old. Contact the Vorbarr Sultana trust before they wet themselves wondering what you’re going to do.”

He waited. Ivan looked dumbstruck. “I have to say goodbye to Marie. Do I have your permission to go up and see her?”

Ivan was still almost speechless. He looked now like he’d been poleaxed. He waved vaguely in the direction of the staircase. “Yes, go on. I have to talk to Gregor. This isn’t my decision to make. That’s Gregor’s money we’re talking about. I can’t take that much from him.”

By winked at him. “You do that. I’ll call back in the morning. We need to get on with the Blue Salon and the Dining room, if nothing else. I take it you’re happy so far?”

“Just ecstatic.” He was obviously thinking about the nasty surprise in the otherwise innocuous library shelves. He relented suddenly. “Oh, sorry, By. The room looks amazing. You should have commissions coming out of your ears in no time. Er…I know I can rely on you not to mention this.”

“Mention what? I have a shocking memory, don’t you know? Only under the pain of fast-penta. Au revoir, Ivan.” He shut the door behind him.

Two hundred thousand marks. After he’d chatted to Marie By let his thoughts dwell on it as he made his way home. It was pleasant to day dream about, as long as he was mindful of his surroundings. Imagine handing Ivan his thousand marks and pocketing the rest. He could go to Bonsanklar. _Bonsanklar?_ When had his imagination grown so…limited? He could go to Komarr, or even Beta. Imagine _that_!

ImpSec would find him, though. There would be no hiding. What would he do with a life of ease and leisure, anyway? No, he’d come by his money the honest, well, almost honest way. Apart from anything else, Ivan was his _friend_. His money would all be his own, and hard-earned. Anything he bought with it couldn’t be taken away from him.

There was always his office. So much space, and so much light. The decoration plan for Countess Vorbretten’s soirée was almost finished, too. He’d be seeing her in the next day or two to go over his ideas. He sniffed the fell hand of a Vorkosigan in that little commission. Whether or not he ever got a second one from her was up to him. _Cliveas._ That’s what he needed for Vorbretten House with its modern simplicity. Glossy, dark green leaves and Cliveas. Multicoloured florals weren’t his thing, he decided.

By let himself into his apartment at last and turned on his favourite music to think by. The sound of an old Earth violin filled the room. He went to sleep that night dreaming of Cliveas.

 

He shouldn’t have even thought of Vorkosigans. He’d drawn one to himself, like a magnet. Miles Vorkosigan sat in Ivan’s study the next morning, waiting for him with a cat-that-got-the-canary look on his face. Ivan’s secretary had called him at 1000 hours on the dot, summoning him to what he now realised was going to be an inquisition. He glowered at Miles.

“Morning, By.” Ivan stood up to shake his hand.

“Good morning, Ivan. I take it this isn’t about decorating,” he said, giving Miles a terse nod and settling at the opposite corner of the desk from where Miles sat.

Ivan smiled. “It is and it isn’t. I talked to the Emperor last night, By. Miles was there and Commodore Koudelka as well, briefly. Gregor approved the arrangements I made for the disbursement of the funds.”

“Kou didn’t grab it, then? I would have. A deal’s a deal.”

“Fortunately Commodore Koudelka is made of stronger moral fibre than you, Vorrutyer. He did agree to accept ten percent, so that was a win for us. Also, what is going to be a win for you, too, as the Emperor approved a finder’s fee.”

By sat up straight. “He did what?”

Ivan passed the chit across his desk. “He approved a twenty thousand mark finder’s fee for you, By.”

He felt hot and cold all at the same time. “I can’t take that!”

Ivan shook his head at him. “You just said you would have taken all two hundred thousand.”

“I did, didn’t I, but that wasn’t in any expectation of _actually_ being offered anything. This is your money, Ivan.”

“I would have chucked that carpet on a bonfire, the state it was in. This is fair, By. Please take it.”

Vorkosigan had to be there for a reason. He put his three marks’ worth in. “Did you _know_ where that carpet was made, By?”

The last of those three marks dropped. “No, but looking at you, I’d say Vorkosigan Vashnoi.”

Aha! That struck home. Miles acknowledged his guess. “Got it in one.”

By eyed the chit. He felt most peculiar. “Are you quite sure, Ivan?”

Ivan pushed it further towards him. “Imperial edict, By. Go on. I think you deserve it.”

It was true. Ivan really wanted to give it to him. By slipped the chit into an inside pocket.

Ivan looked at Miles. “So, what do you reckon?”

“I’ll find my hat. Drinks are on you for the first time in your life, Vorrutyer. Mine’s a double.”

The three of them went to Shoko’s for lunch. Miles’s ImpSec squad, or maybe his Auditor’s chain got him the best table in the house. By had never sat there before. Surprisingly, neither Miles nor Ivan ordered a bottle of the best champagne. They limited themselves to a single glass of wine each. It was all so surreal. By could feel the credit chit burning a hole in his pocket. He needed to _think_ about this.

They went their own way eventually. By nipped inside and paid the bill before Ivan could do it. What they’d talked about for half an hour he had no idea. His office was only a few paces away but By turned his back and walked the kilometre to his bank instead.

He scanned the chit into his mortgage account. The apartment. It was _his_.

 

 


	12. Respectable... Who'd have thought?

 

 

There was no sleep for By that night. He sat at his little table and stared at his trembling hands for hours. The lights came on automatically as dusk fell but it didn’t register with him. It was _dark_ outside when he finally stood up, forced by nature to visit the bathroom at last. His thoughts had been years away. What would his father say about this? His _father._ That was a joke. Sperm donor, perhaps. So brutally uncaring and dismissive of anything to do with By. _Accusing him_ …accusing him on the word of dear cousin Richars. It was a _cruel_ excuse to get rid of him. By could see him now. _You’ll never amount to anything._ _Get out of my sight_ …

It was early to go to bed, but he didn’t want to come back to his precious space drunk or worse. _His_. Bought and paid for, because he’d had a hunch about a carpet. Water was a strange drink to choose to celebrate, but it was a very strange celebration, after all. He’d only had the one goal for over ten years. Now what was he supposed to do with the rest of his life?

By finished his water and went to bed. He clutched one of his pillows to his chest like Ivan’s Marie with her steggy, big strong grown man that he was. Maybe he could go talk to Dono in the morning. Dono would understand, if anyone could. Dono had a future now, as well.

In the grey light of dawn By gave up any thought of sleep and headed for the shower. It was a brillberry magenta sort of day, he decided, with the ruffliest ruffles he could come up with. He was somebody, now. Neat and precise as a pin he dared the world to bring on what it would as he saluted himself in his mirror with a defiant flick to his hair. Byerly Pierre Vorrutyer. _Homeowner_.

By arrived at Vorrutyer House before breakfast. Szabo ran up to confer with his liege lord and called By upstairs to the master bedroom.

“By, what in three worlds are you doing up at this hour? It’s only 0800 hours! Is something wrong?” Dono turned away from his dressing table to take in By’s finery. He still hadn’t got his boots on. He was dressed only in his trousers and shirt with his tunic hanging on a stand ready to go.

“It doesn’t look like you’ve been carousing all night. Are you in trouble again? I’ll help if I can, but—”

“I’m not in any trouble. I thought I might have breakfast with you, is all.”

Dono’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re shaved and sharp and all you want to do is have breakfast with me? Do I look like I want to buy a bridge or something? Give, cuz.” His gaze flicked over to his armsman, who was still standing in the doorway.

“Coffee, Szabo. It’s too hard to think before coffee.” Once the door was closed he looked at By and waited, arms folded and foot tapping.

By felt a laugh bubble up. “I’ve come into some money and don’t have a care in the world any more.”

Dono wasn’t buying it. “Who did you mug? Is the municipal guard after you? Or not…ImpSec. Tell me it’s not ImpSec again, By.”

It took Dono a little while to believe By was serious. He listened to the tale of the carpet with a look of disbelief on his face. By the time Szabo returned with the coffee the disbelief had turned to hilarity. He wiped his eyes and laughed so hard he had to bend over to ease his ribs.

“Oh, ye gods. _Ivan_. What a national treasure he is. What would we do without him? Come on, let’s find that breakfast. Let me put my boots on.”

Dono stuffed his feet into his polished boots. By held his tunic for him and eased the sleeves up to his shoulders. He smoothed the set of the fabric across his back as Dono fastened it up. By put his hand out to stop him as he started to leave the bedroom.

“Szabo, did I see Joris around earlier? Could you fetch him, please? There’s something I want to do.”

Dono’s brows drew down in puzzlement. “What are you up to now, By?”

“Well, it occurred to me that the Council of Counts has confirmed you as _The_ Vorrutyer, but I haven’t said my bit, yet. There’s just the faintest possibility that some of those fossilised old coprolites might look to my father as the saviour of the family line so I’ve been remiss in not doing this before. I’d like to give you my oath as head of my House, if you’d accept it, my lord Count.”

Dono drew in a sharp breath. “You’re serious?”

“I’m very serious.”

Dono looked a quite taken aback. He tried for a little humour. “You honestly think you can kneel in _that_ suit?”

By tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Only for you and the Emperor, Dono. I don’t kneel to anyone else.”

Szabo came back into the room with a curious Joris in tow. By sank to one knee, palms together and held up in petition. Dono blinked and took the proffered hands between his own. His gaze became intent and serious as he looked down at his cousin.

“I, Byerly Pierre Vorrutyer, acknowledge you as my Count and swear loyalty to you as my liege protector. This oath I do swear in front of these two witnesses by my name as Vorrutyer.”

“Byerly Pierre Vorrutyer, I accept your loyalty and service, and offer you my protection as liege lord, by my name as Vorrutyer.”

By scrambled to his feet. He dashed a hand across his eyes very quickly. “Now that’s done, why in heaven’s name have you still got these hideous curtains in here, Dono? Have you _no_ taste? I’m surprised Olivia hasn’t done something about them by now.”

Szabo and Joris looked at each other. Szabo just shook his head.

Dono ushered By out. “We can discuss them over breakfast. Oh, by the way, I’ve nominated you as heir, by Count’s choice, until I produce some of my own, in which case you’ll become guardian until they come of age. I’ll need you to look after Olivia, too, should the situation arise.”

By nodded impatiently. “Yes, righto, Dono, of course that all goes without saying, but first things first. Have you got a colour scheme in mind for that room, or should I draw one up for you? Doublevee aesthetica can let you have a family discount. No more than ten percent, mind you, and my finder’s fee for any priceless artefacts is set by Imperial precedent, now, at ten percent as well.”

“Five.”

“No, if Gregor pays ten percent, you can, too, you cheapskate.”

They were still arguing when they sat down to breakfast. By looked around in disgust at the dingy room. “You know what, Dono? There’s no saving this place. You should do what the Vorbrettens have done and build yourself a new town house. Turn this place into _Pierre Le Sanguinaire’s House of Horrors_ and charge the tourists twenty marks a head to get the shit scared out of them. You’ll be rolling in it in no time.”

Dono looked at the arrow-slit windows high up near the smoke-blackened ceiling, the only source of natural illumination the dining room possessed.

“Fancy yourself as a tour guide? Give them an upgrade option. An extra ten marks a head and a genuine great great grandson of Pierre Le Sanguinaire himself will show you around.”

“Ten? Only an extra _ten_ marks for the privilege of _my_ company? You have no vision, Dono, none at all. I can get more than that playing Lord Vordagger.” He sucked in a breath and clicked his fingers. “Sometimes I have ideas so brilliant it almost staggers me. The dungeons are still accessible, aren’t they?”

“Ye-ess. Why do you ask?” Dono looked suspiciously at his cousin. “What’s so brilliant?”

“There are no dungeons at Voralys House, or even Vorkosigan House. I do believe you have the only dungeons in town, apart from any ImpSec and Gregor might still have, in use or not.”

“And?”

“ _And_? Where are your wits? _Count Vorperil’s Dungeon_ of course. Ivan’s busting his guts to get off-world tourists here. He’s got Etienne Vorinnis lined up to strut around Rotherhall as Lord Vordagger, but Count Vorperil’s dungeon was in his house in the capital. Lord Vordagger was chained to the walls while Lady Chloris Vorperil dripped hot wax from her candle on—haven’t you _read_ Raine’s books? Everyone’s read Raine’s books!”

“I…I, no I haven’t.” Dono looked uncomfortable. “I thought they were women’s books. I didn’t want to look like I was…hankering for something I’d lost.”

“You can bet your last mark Olivia’s read it. Run your idea past her and see what she thinks. You might even like to try it out. It was a red wax candle, as I recall.” By wiggled his eyebrows. “It all sounded quite delicious.”

“ _My_ idea?”

“I’ll let you take the credit. You’ll have to give Raine a cut, of course.” By drained the last of his coffee. “Come on. Bring your biggest, bravest spider killer with you and show me these dungeons. Any chains? Rattling skeletons? We should look for a secret tunnel, too. Old Pierre was bound to have some of them.”

Dono had been thinking. “Red wax, you say? Wouldn’t that…hurt?”

“Oh dear, Dono. You do have things to learn, don’t you? Of course it hurts. That’s the point. If you pardon the…er…pun.”

The count wriggled in his chair. “It’s still brand new. I don’t want to risk any damage. Not until after the wedding, anyway.” He pressed his wrist com and asked Szabo to bring three torches. On second thoughts he called him back and told him to bring a feather duster with him as well.

By looked at him with awe. “You catch on really quickly, don’t you? Red wax and feather dusters. How kinky can you get?”

Dono swatted at him. “It’s for the _spiders_. It must be a family trait. I can’t stand the things. They don’t deserve to die just because I don’t like them, though. He can usher them into the corners or something.”

If Szabo had had a boring life caring for the reclusive Pierre he was certainly making up for it now. He led the way down the circular stone staircase to the dungeons, armed and ready with his feather duster.

By suddenly remembered something. “Oh, Szabo. I have a message for you. I chanced to meet a Vorolney armsman by the name of Kravik. He asked me to send you his best regards.”

“Meet him in a back alley, did you, sir? Last I heard he’d pulled duty wiping Lord Nigel’s arse for him. Lord Nigel enjoys back alleys and gutters.”

“Something like that. The two of them have gone to Bonsanklar to try and get him sorted out.”

“That’ll never happen while he hangs around with the sort of people you seem to like, sir. I don’t know why you do it.”

That was plain speaking. By was beginning to like armsmen. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I _like_ them, Szabo.”

“That’s good to hear, sir. There are enough fools in the family as it is. Well, here we are. Old Count Pierre’s hospitality suite.”

There were three cells in the block, each with embedded metal rings high on the wall, and more set in the stones flags of the floor. A gutter about ten centimetres wide ran along the back walls and the floors sloped gently towards it. The heavy metal doors wouldn’t even let Miles Vorkosigan walk in upright, although the cells themselves were about three metres tall. They were filled with all sorts of junk, ranging from broken beds to old kitchen implements and discarded clothing.

“Can’t hang anyone properly, otherwise,” Szabo remarked as he saw By looking up at more rings in the ceiling.

“I suppose not.” By shuddered. His ancestor really had been a dreadful old man. “Well, they’re perfect. We might need some more illumination, though.”

Dono gave a laugh. “What did you have in mind? Wrought iron candlesticks with red wax candles?”

“See, you’re getting into the spirit of it already. Don’t throw anything out until we go through it all. I’ve learned a good lesson, there. Worst case scenario we can put it all in the gift shop.”

“ _Gift shop?”_

“Of course! Get the orders in for the red wax candles at the very least. Tourists will want to burn them while they’re here because they won’t be able to do it back on Beta. Earthers should be able to, of course, but that’s a lot further to come. Maybe a few pokers and pincers. You can’t have a good torturing session without a red hot poker now, can you? I hope we can find a brazier or two amongst all this junk. Get your armsmen on to it. You need to be proactive, Dono. Start looking for a new place now. You don’t want to miss out.”

Szabo gave him a look of burning reproach. By relented. “Maybe get some students in from VS University’s history department. _They’d_ do it all for free. Szabo would just have to supervise them.”

 

It was close to lunch time when By made it home again. He needed to get on with the rest of Ivan’s decorations, put the finishing touches on the plan for the Vorbrettens and visit Lady Vorgustavson to discuss her dinner party. He stopped for long enough to check his comconsole before heading out to the office. He rather wished he hadn’t as there was a priority message from The Residence. He hesitated before opening it. His last visit to see the Emperor had _not_ been pleasant, although that was at Vorhartung, of course.

He needn’t have worried. It was an invitation; he’d been forgiven at last. _Hmm_. A reception for the new Escobaran ambassador. Perhaps he should visit his florist and snaffle a moon flower or two before everyone else caught on. Or better yet, he should really get back in the good books and tip Lady Alys off that they were now available. It would be a nice touch to add them to the decorations at The Residence.

It took him a while to send off all the messages, not forgetting to let the florist know who it was he had to thank for Lady Alys’s business. He received a very prompt response from the protocol office thanking him for the kind advice. He could translate ImpSpeak quite easily. _She’d be on it like a duck on a bug_.

It was a week for invitations. He’d been at the office for a couple of hours the next morning when reception called. A Vorkosigan armsman had something for him. It was Jankowski in his smartest uniform, carrying a hand-calligraphed envelope pressed with the Vorkosigan seal.

_He’d been invited to the wedding._ It had to be Ekaterin’s doing. Miles would have invited him to take a wormhole jump to hell if he had _his_ way. Lord Vorkosigan’s wedding. The biggest social event after ImpWed and he’d been invited. What with Dono’s wedding and now this one, plus the invitation back to The Residence, his father’s prediction was beginning to look a bit sick.

By turned the envelope over in his hands. “Did Madame Vorsoisson write these herself? It’s obviously not his lordship’s hand.”

Jankowski allowed himself to smile. “I believe she did, sir. She wanted people to be able to read them, after all.”

“Please let her know I’ll be coming, but I’ll write a formal response as soon as possible. Thank you, Jankowski.”

“My pleasure, sir. I’d best get on. I’ve got several more of these to deliver this morning.”

He sat awhile, just looking at the envelope. He didn’t want to spoil it by breaking the seal. It was silly really, but here was a tangible expression of his acceptance back into society. Did he want to be mainstream, a respectable, even _worthy_ member of society?

By was interrupted in his musings on the meaning of life by the foreman of the decorating team at Voralys House.

“Was it the alabaster for the dining room ceiling, sir, or the frost white?”

“The alabaster is for the Blue Salon, and frost white in the dining room. We discussed this. You have it in writing.”

“Oh.” There was an ominous silence. What had they done? As long as it wasn’t the wood carving, anything else could be fixed.

“Stop everything until I get there. You had _one_ job today. One. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

He reached the street and was waiting impatiently for an autocab when the thought struck him. Here he was frantic with anxiety because some painting crew might have got the colour of somebody else’s ceiling two shades wrong, when the somebody else would never even notice. What was he worried about, trying to decide whether he wanted to be mainstream, or respectable? He already _was_.

The ceiling looked great in frost white. The whole room looked beautiful. They were ready to move on to the Blue Salon. Ivan was off in Prestwich, blowing things up, apparently. By had somehow missed the gene that delighted in blowing things up. It was much better to make something, build it up into something beautiful and substantial, than to blow it up, surely? Ivan had taken Marie with him, but Simon Illyan and Lady Alys were in residence. He saw Lady Alys briefly when she came home from her office.

She smiled at him. “Byerly! I had hoped to see you before the reception for the Escobaran ambassador. I’m grateful for your advice regarding the moon flowers. They’ll make an excellent compliment to the ambassador. I hope we’ll see you there?”

“I’m looking forward to it, my lady.”

He flicked open his data recorder. “These are some vids from the decorations for Ivan’s party. I think you can see how elegant they look.”

She took a close look at the vids. “Who did you get to do these for you, Byerly? They’re very good.”

“Well, I er…designed them myself. These were made up from my original.”

“ _You_ did? I thought it might have been Ekaterin. You’ve got a very fine eye. Laisa isn’t fond of elaborate ornamentation. We might try something like this. Could you forward these to her office? We’d pay the proper royalty, of course.”

_Doublevee Aesthetica. By Imperial Appointment._

“I’d be happy to come in and consult, if you think I could help. More is less is definitely the secret with these.”

Lady Alys deliberated for a moment. “I think that would be an excellent idea. I’ll have my secretary forward the details to you. We aim to have floral decorations in place four hours out, ImpSec scans three hours out, food service organised two hours out and final security briefing one hour out. I leave once the last of the decorations are in place to dress and return for the final security briefing. I’d be happy to drop you off and pick you up, if three hours would be sufficient for you to attend to your _toilette.”_

_Ooh, meow._ She hadn’t lost her touch.

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll be wearing my House uniform. Count Vorrutyer has given his permission.”

“Has he now? Very sensible of him. Better the devil you know, don’t you think? _Au revoir_ , Byerly.” She sailed off, majestic as ever. Byerly watched her ascend the stairs. He couldn’t help but smile.

Floral designer to the Empress. Who’d have thought?

 

 


	13. Party time

 

 

Byerly Vorrutyer shook hands with Emperor Gregor Vorbarra. All the Emperor’s normal calm demeanour seemed to be well in place. By wasn’t sure, though, but it appeared to him that there may have been just a trace of amusement flickering in those hazel eyes. He knew he’d done the Emperor a favour. He could meet that gaze without wavering.

“That’s an interesting choice of dress, tonight, Vorrutyer. Very conservative. We do trust the count is aware?”

“Indeed, sire, it was his…edict. Only temporary of course.”

“Naturally, with his wedding fast approaching.” Gregor half turned to the people standing at his left hand side. “Your Excellency Ambassador Almeida, Senhora Almeida and Senhorita Almeida, may We present Byerly Vorrutyer? The floral decorations you were so kind as to comment on were created under his artistic direction. His cousin the count has recently appointed him as his heir presumptive.”

_Nicely done, Gregor_ , By thought as he shook hands and murmured all the usual pleasantries. _Here’s the florist but he’s a Vor florist and Count’s heir so don’t treat him like a tradesman…_

The Ambassador betrayed no hint of condescension. “I was so very surprised to see our own beautiful Moon flowers given such sympathetic treatment, Vorrutyer. You truly understand them.”

Byerly smiled. “Thank you, sir. Escobar’s beauties are well represented tonight, are they not?” He shivered a wink at Senhorita Almeida. _She’d_ be game for a bit of dalliance under the moonlight, unless he’d badly lost his touch in assessing people. The flirt batted her eyelids right back at him.

“Perhaps later, sir, you would be so good as to explain to me about the other flowers in the decorations? They are ones I do not recognise at all.”

“Most certainly, Senhorita.”

By moved off before Gregor’s major domo could get the chance to give one of his discreet coughs. There were very few people in the rooms as yet. He wasn’t used to being early to an Imperial event, but Lady Alys had seen to that when she’d picked him up in her stately ground car. He stood idly by the buffet table, sipping a champagne and watching the arrivals, enjoying the startled glances of the newcomers as they caught sight of him. It wasn’t long before one of the curious ventured to approach.

“Lady Vormoncrief. Good evening, ma’am.” By clicked his heels and bowed.

“Byerly Vorrutyer! It is you! I could hardly believe my eyes just now when my father-in-law pointed you out. Has the decision been ratified in the Council of Counts?” Her hand indicated his attire.

“Not to my knowledge, my lady. It will no doubt be on the agenda at the next Council meeting. My cousin was so good as to inform me of the honour this last week. I’ve only just managed to scramble this together in time. My tailor is very accommodating.”

“Quite so. My dear father-in-law explained. Count Vorrutyer is mustering his troops, either that or keeping his enemies where he can see them, he said.”

“I don’t believe my cousin has an enemy in the world now that my _other_ cousin is awaiting his just rewards. It will be one of my jobs as heir to make sure the circumstance doesn’t arise in the future.”

“You’ve certainly changed, Byerly. I can’t remember you _ever_ having a job, before.”

There was a malicious gleam in her eyes as she waited for a reply. She’d left herself wide open. “I understand that Doctor Pélissier over at the Vorbarr Sultana clinic is performing miracles with dementia patients these days. Have you heard of his work?”

By took a sip from his glass and regarded her over the rim.

“No, I can’t say that I—oh!” Lady Vormoncrieff swelled with indignation and flounced off, two spots of colour flaring in her cheeks.

Strike one possible client, but the Vormoncrieffs were highly unlikely to have anything to do with Doublevee Aesthetica once they realised it was a Vorkosigan company. By watched her go. _Choke on that, bitch._

“Charming as always, Vorrutyer.”

By knew that voice. He turned to see Miles Vorkosigan, with Ekaterin on his arm. “Good evening, my lord.” By bowed, then kissed Ekaterin’s hand. “And a very good evening to you, Madame.”

“By, the flowers look wonderful! You must have had a hand in them. I’m beginning to recognise your touch. I’m quite sure you did Tatya Vorbretten’s too. I was there the other night with Miles. You’re so _clever_. Tatya was delighted with them.”

“I’m pleased to hear it. I sweated for _hours_ to find just the right shade of Clivea to compliment to Vorbretten colours.”

Miles snorted. “I’m sure you did. I’d pay money to see you sweat. Have you spent all of _your_ money, yet, By? I thought you wouldn’t surface for a month.”

“Drunk it all away, do you mean, or better yet, bought twenty-thousand mark’s worth of purple poppers? It may surprise you to know that yes, I _have_ spent it all. It came in very handy.”

Ekaterin stepped into the widening silence between the two of them. “Miles didn’t mean any such thing, By. I’m so glad you’re able to come to our wedding. I don’t have too many friends here in the capital, so having you and Raine will be very special.”

Ekaterin’s cheerful smile banished any rancour with effortless ease. By immediately forgot about Miles Vorkosigan’s hostility. “I’m delighted to hear that. So the date is fixed for the day after Winterfair? Are you still planning to be married in your garden? I saw the most divine sealskin-lined cloak at my tailor’s the other day. It will be just the thing if you are.”

Miles pulled Ekaterin a little closer. “It won’t be _that_ cold. Kyril Island’s the place to go, if you want to find out what winer is really like. It’s merely chilly here in the capital, in comparison.”

“Let’s hope so. _What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen._ I think I _shall_ buy that cloak. I’ll be fine, then _. Blow, blow, thou winter wind. Thou art not so unkind, as man's ingratitude.”_

With a last smile to Ekaterin By walked away. He could feel Miles’s glare like a tangible thing and hear Ekaterin’s delighted giggle. She’d soon distract Miles from plotting murder. She only had to touch him to make him forget everything else.

Ivan was here tonight, obviously back from his District. Perhaps he was done with blowing things up for the time being. By wanted to hear what he thought of his dining room and Blue salon but he had that Almeida hussy on his arm. _Arabella_ , he’d heard her called. They made a fine pair. The Emperor must have roped him in to escort duty. It was entirely unclear who needed the escort, though. Ivan might just require rescuing if she had her way. She was stuck to him like glue.

By found himself another drink and wandered over to chat to Olivia and Dono for a while. Olivia looked lovelier than ever in her silken blue gown that exactly matched the colour of her eyes. She gave By an impulsive hug. “Dono told me what you did. Thank you. It really touched him, you know. You look so smart in that House uniform, By. I’ve never seen you wear one before.”

She outlined the embroidery with a tip of her finger and blushed just a little. “Dono’s told me you know this is just temporary.”

“What, count’s heir? It had better be! I had my tailor attach this embroidery with catch tape. It’ll come right off and I’ll be back to just a cadet member of House Vorrutyer before you can click your fingers, just the second you set up the replicator. The sooner I can get rid of it the better. I’m not count material.”

“Catch tape? Oh, you’re joking.” Olivia laughed aloud.

“Only about the tape. I’m here if Dono needs me, but that’s only until his own sons are grown. I’ll be back to grouchy Uncle By, the family’s black sheep.”

A movement caught his eye. Several people entered the room all together. They may as well have had _ImpSec Agent_ tattooed across their foreheads. One spoke quietly to the Emperor, who blinked once or twice before he gave his response. The agent looked around and finally spotted Miles Vorkosigan. By and Dono both watched as Miles signalled to Pym, whispered to Ekaterin and left her abruptly.

They weren’t the only ones to notice. By watched Ivan as he just about dumped Arabella Almeida back with her father to walk over to the Emperor. He would never make a poker player. His whole body tensed as his face paled. He rushed from the room, much to Arabella’s disgust.

“Oh dear. Time to avoid a diplomatic incident, I think.”

By said goodbye to Dono and Olivia and sought out Arabella. She looked flushed and angry, tapping her foot and talking in an urgent undertone to her father. By couldn’t understand her rapid-fire Portuguese, but the lady was _pissed off_.

“Senhorita! I finally get to talk to you at last. Poor Ivan. He has an unmentionable complaint, don’t you know? Something he picked up on Earth, I do believe. Too much excitement and he has to er…run. Please forgive him. He obviously had to ask the Emperor’s permission to leave. He’ll be so embarrassed.”

“Oh…” She looked at the door where Ivan had disappeared. “A complaint? I do hope it’s not contagious.”

“Oh, not any more. The antibiotics are clearing it right up. You’d need to get a lot closer than just, shall we say, holding hands, for it to be a problem.” By tried his look of innocence on her. “I, on the other hand, have a perfectly clean bill of health. We could quite safely exchange…pleasantries without any fear of unwanted consequences.”

Arabella swatted at him with her fan. “And what pleasantries did you have in mind, sir?”

By held out his arm. “Why don’t we go out onto the terrace and you can find out?”

“I think not, Arabella.” Senhora Almeida frowned at By with the eternal look of all mothers. “We aren’t _fully_ versed in all the nuances of protocol.” _But I can spot a rake a mile off,_ she could have added.

He’d done what he’d set out to do. Arabella was smiling again. He clicked his heels and bowed regretfully.

“Another time, perhaps.” Ekaterin was standing by herself looking just a little forlorn. Lady Vormoncrief appeared to be lining her up, too. By nipped in.

“Sir Galahad to the rescue. Quick, behind this potted palm before she corners you.”

“Who? Oh, Lady Vormoncrief.” Ekaterin followed him, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Byerly, what will people _say_?”

He leaned over to whisper dramatically in her ear. “ _Foul whisp’rings are abroad_.”

“You’re too clever for your own good, but I suppose _there is no darkness but ignorance.”_

_“Exactly._ What do you think they will say? About you? That you’re the victim of my wicked wiles, and about _me_ that they might have expected it. Doesn’t do to disappoint the masses now, does it? _How much an ill word may empoison liking!_ I’m entirely sure Lady Vormoncrieff is _empoisoning_ everyone she can get to listen to her. I think you’re safe now. Let’s seek the solace of the buffet table until Miles remembers you.”

Ekaterin looked towards the door where Miles had left. “I think something quite important has happened. He looked concerned when he left.”

“If he doesn’t return you must let me to escort you home, as Ivan has disappeared as well.”

They waited for some time. It looked like he might actually have to take her home but as the room began to thin out at last Gregor’s armsman came over and extracted Ekaterin from his evil clutches and whisked her off. He was sorry to see her go. She was delightful company when she could get a word in edgewise without her motormouth fiancé around.

The ImpSec guards were all very tense when By sauntered out. Szabo had just brought Dono’s ground car to the entrance and the count was in the act of getting in. Olivia called out to him from inside. “Would you like a lift home, By, or are you going on somewhere?”

No, he wasn’t going on somewhere. It was very strange. Quite pedestrian really, to be going home to bed so early. “Thank you. I’d like that. Just to the end of the street, though. Ground cars like this don’t do too well.”

Szabo held the door open for him. “Thank you, Szabo. I hope it’s not too much out of your way.”

“My pleasure, sir. Can’t do any less for the count’s heir now, can we?”

“I do feel slightly _de trop_ , you know,” By remarked a few minutes later. Olivia let go of Dono’s hand and blushed prettily.

“Oh, sorry, By.”

“I know, you hadn’t seen each other for what? Three minutes, while Olivia visited the ladies’ room.”

Dono took a firm hold of Olivia’s hand again. “One of these days, By, you’ll know exactly how we feel.”

“You think so?” By gazed out of the window for a moment or two before he turned to face them again. “I think I missed that boat.”

Olivia leaned forward to put her free hand on his knee in sympathy. “Oh, don’t say that, By. Look at Uncle Aral. He was way past forty when he found Tante Cordelia.”

“True.” By didn’t want to talk about his prospects, matrimonial or otherwise. “What do you suppose the flap was about tonight? Neither Miles nor Ivan were ever seen again.”

Dono grunted. “Mere mortals like us will never find out. ImpSec will do what ImpSec does best and make it all disappear without trace.”

 

Dono was wrong. When By woke up the next morning horrific news was beginning to filter through from Sergyar. A hijacking. Space pirates, in Imperial Space, with multiple casualties. Oh, god. _Ivan_!

By didn’t swallow the pirates theory for a second. Raine was on her way home, he knew. No wonder he’d turned so pale when the news came through. He switched off the news and punched in Ivan’s private code. The chime sounded for a long time, but at last Ivan came on the channel. He looked pretty ropey, but not totally devastated. By didn’t have to say anything.

“She’s safe, By. She wasn’t on the _Olivia_.”

By let out a sigh of relief. Ivan wasn’t happy, though. “There’s a but.”

Ivan’s eyes darkened into a fierce scowl. “ _But_ that bastard was after her, By.”

“ _That_ bastard?”

Ivan nodded. “That one. The description fits exactly.”

“His first mistake, then. Miles will be all over this like flies on shit. He’ll nail him.”

“I hope so, but I’m worried sick, By. I need her _home_.”

“I can’t help you with that, but if there’s anything else I can do, just let me know. Even babysitting.”

That made him smile. “Marie asks after you, you know. You should come to tea some time. I haven’t even said thankyou for the decorating. I wasn’t sure you could do it, but I was wrong and don’t mind admitting it.”

There wasn’t a devious bone in Ivan’s body. He might blunder into things and blunder out again, but was as straight as a die. By felt his heart warm at the frank admission.

“Thank you, Ivan. That actually means more to me than you might think. I mean what I say. Just give me a call, any time, if I can help.”

“Thanks, By. I’ll remember that.”

It was almost humdrum to be making his way through the streets to his office. Surely there was _something_ he could do? Shoko’s would be the place to go at this time of day, to try and pick up any gossip. By made the decision in an instant, swerving off across the Great Square to the queue waiting to be seated.

ImpSec had nothing on Shoko’s staff. How they knew he was now a count’s heir was a mystery, but know it they did. He was treated with a marked degree of deference, whisked out of the line to one of the central tables just then vacated by a pair of fearsome Vor dragons, Lady Mary Vorville and her sister Countess Vorpinski. Their armsmen slotted in behind them as they headed for The Residence. Off to see Lady Alys, perhaps?

The proprietor himself bustled over. “Good morning, sir. How may Shoko’s serve you today?”

“Just coffee. No grovelling required.”

The man looked blank for a moment, then smiled and bowed. “As you wish, sir.”

A month ago By might have dreamed of someone grovelling to him, but reality was far from his idle dreams. He hadn’t changed that much in four short weeks, surely? No, _he_ hadn’t changed a bit. Someone had waved a magic wand and enchanted his life.

By sipped his coffee and stared out over the square. He would never have thought of Miles Vorkosigan as a fairy godmother. Ivan Vorpatril, maybe. A wry smile crossed his lips. Ivan was still chasing his own tail, trying to cope as best he could with his own change in circumstances. He was making a surprisingly good job of it in his own quiet way.

There was only one topic of conversation at the tables all around him. The clientele of Shoko’s was the very demographic to use the liners. Most of them would have been to Beta on the _Princess Olivia_ , the _Princess Sonia_ or the _Vicereine Cordelia._ Quite a few of them would also be booked for further travel on the _Empress Laisa_. They were all thinking the same thing. _There but for the grace of god…_

By shrugged. Well, those of them that believed in deities, anyway. The rest of them were just counting their lucky stars. He was wasting his time here. Anybody up to anything nefarious would be well ensconced in their bolt holes until the fuss died down. He’d be much better served doing some real work. He drained his coffee and called for his bill.

Real work. The thought was still a novelty.

 

 


	14. Tour guide extraordinaire.

 

 

By cleared the gatehouse guard at Voralys House and walked up to the front door. Ivan hadn’t specified exactly when he should come to tea, so there was no time like the present. He’d waited a day, but the news was so disturbing Ivan was probably ready to shoot somebody, or kick the cat if he had one.By could meow with the best of them, or bark if he had to. He’d done it before, after all. The count needed distracting from his troubles.

Harper let him in with an almost-deferential bow. “Was the count expecting you, sir?”

By shrugged. “He invited me to tea. He didn’t exactly say when.”

“I’ll take you through to the library. Lady Alys and Captain Illyan are there, along with Miss Marie. I’ll let the count know you’re here.”

Marie rushed over to give him a hug. “Uncle By! You came back. Come and see what I did with colour shading.” She dragged him off to a side table. By could only nod to Lady Alys and Simon Illyan as his attention was ruthlessly appropriated. He spoke over Marie’s head.

“Good afternoon, my lady, sir. Please excuse me for a moment.”

Simon Illyan smiled before he spoke. By quailed just a little at the sight. “We’re waiting for Ivan to finally leave his study. He’s been working like a slave all day yesterday and today, trying to distract himself.”

“Well, that was my intention in coming, but if he’s got you perhaps—”

Lady Alys held up her hand to stop him. “No, please stay, Byerly. You’re very welcome. It’s much better for Ivan to say something he might regret to _you_ , rather than to me.”

“I thought perhaps that might be the case—”

“Uncle By, you’re not looking at my _picture_!” Marie waved it under his nose.

“Oh, sorry. You’re quite right.” By sat beside her on a very uncomfortable low chair and tried to arrange his gangly legs as best he could. “oh, my word. You have been very clever. That shading gives depth to whole thing. When did you notice that roses appear darker in the centre?”

Marie gave him a pitying sigh. “You just have to _look_ at them, Uncle By. You can see it.”

“Okay. Here’s something else to look at. Have you heard of perspective?”

“Pers…pective?” She shook her head. “No.”

“It’s how you look at something. Take your Papi Simon for example. You love him very much, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes. As much as My Ivan and Mamie.”

Papi Simon gave By a cool, hard stare. It was a direct warning. By swallowed and went on. “Well, I’m really scared of Papi Simon. It’s the same person but we have a different _perspective_.”

Marie giggled in absolute delight. “Scared? Of Papi Simon? You’re funny, Uncle By.”

Long may she continue to think like that. By got to the point, literally. “So, when we look at something in the distance, we can see things a little differently. See the flowers in the fireplace, how they just look like little blue blobs from here? Are they really little?”

She shook her head. “No. They’re big flowers.”

“If they were half way towards us they’d look twice as big. Watch this.”

By placed a point on a clean sheet of the very expensive drawing paper Ivan indulged Marie with. “That’s the middle of the fireplace.” He drew in some faint perspective lines, centring on the point. “If the flowers were here, on the little table, they’d look this big. If they were _here_ , they’d be smaller.”

Marie’s eyes opened wide. She looked from the flowers to By’s quick sketch, and back again. “And if they were way off, in the distance, they’d just look like a teeny tiny dot!”

“That’s right, but I tell you what. There’s something much easier in here you can practise with. Can you see it with the bookshelves?”

She could. Her little mind was so quick with anything to do with art. “The colours look darker, too, the farther away they get. I have to try it, Uncle By!”

He turned the sheet over and held out the sketching wand. “Here you go. Pick your perspective point, sketch in your guidelines really faintly so you can erase them afterwards, and away you go.”

Marie didn’t even notice when Ivan came into the room. The tea trolley appeared right behind him. By left her to get on with her experiments. It was only then that he noticed Lady Alys looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, glancing from her to Simon Illyan and back again as he shook Ivan’s hand.

“Indeed not. I would never have thought of introducing a six year old girl to perspective. It’s not a simple concept, but she spotted it instantly.”

By shrugged. “She’s an artistic genius. Think Pablo Picasso or Albrecht Dürer. You challenge her and she’ll amaze you. I don’t think any other six year old would shade like that, do you?”

Ivan handed a plate of shrimp puffs to By. “I thought I was just biased. It takes someone from the outside to see what’s right under your nose.”

By helped himself to the shrimp puffs. He took two while no one was looking. It had been well worth coming along. “Get her proper lessons. She’ll amaze you.”

Ivan looked like the cares of three worlds were on his shoulders. “I’ll put it on the list.”

He really did need help. “If none of you object, I’d love to show her a few more concepts. I could come for half an hour, maybe once a week? Any more than that would be pushing her too much. It needs to be fun.”

“That’s really kind of you, By. I have no objections. Mamère, Simon? What about you?”

Lady Alys smiled and nodded. Simon Illyan…Simon Illyan looked daggers, but said nothing.

Ivan didn’t notice. “We’ll ask Marie, but I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes. She likes you, although I can’t for the life of me think why.”

It was time to change the subject. By accepted a cup of tea from Lady Alys and asked, “Any news?”

Ivan looked at Marie. She wasn’t listening. He spoke quietly, all the same. “It depends on what you know, but you’re in the loop after all. Vorresiak tried to kill Raine. There was a mix up and he got the wrong ship. When he realised he’d failed he killed all the young women who even faintly resembled Raine, and anyone else who got in the way as well. I was with the Emperor last night when the casualty list came in. He blew their stomachs out, By. All of them, well, the women at least.”

“Shades of the original Princess Olivia, or in honour of the liner's name? Was it aimed at Miles Vorkosigan, do you suppose? He’s madder than I thought he was.”

“He’s a dead man walking.” Ivan drank some tea. His thoughts were miles away. Lady Alys made some innocuous remark about the flowers at the reception and By followed her lead. Ivan came back to them eventually.

“Look, By, I’m glad you came today. There _is_ something you can do for me, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” By put down his cup and waited.

“The reason Raine missed the _Princess Olivia_ is that she’s bringing a delegation back with her from Beta. There’s ten of them, four from Earth and six Betans. She’s going to be in no condition to look after them all. They’re travel agents and people in the hotel business, from the theme hotel. I need them shown over Rotherhall, and Vorbarr Sultana, of course. VIP treatment all the way. One of them’s a herm.”

“A herm? I’ve never talked to a herm. I know there are a few at the Betan embassy. How do you think it’s going to go _here?_ ”

“With your help, just fine. You’re the very person to keep them all out of trouble, as you know exactly where all the trouble _is_.”

_Thanks, Ivan._ “That’s a dubious honour.”

“Well, you’re a dubious person, or you were. Anyway, you’ve been to New Sheffield, and Rotherhall, and you know all the entertainment spots in town. You’ll be just the thing. I did find out the herms already here hang out at Strelka’s. You could start there. _If_ they don’t get to Komarr and turn on their heels and run, of course. I wouldn’t blame them.”

It might be fun. There’d be an expense account, of course. Old habits died hard, especially that of spending other people’s money. “I’d love to do it, Ivan. I’ll get all the details from Nicolaides, shall I? You don’t need to worry any more about it.”

Ivan sat back a little. “Thanks, By. You’ll be a real help. I’ll tell Raine she can relax too.”

It was two weeks before the _Empress Laisa_ reached the transfer station. By had been over the necessary details with Philip Nicolaides twice, had all the itineraries ready and the people mover and the accommodation booked. As always it was nothing but the best for Ivan. The luxury tour car had canopies over the whole length of the vehicle, with the storage space underneath the main cabin so that it was raised to give better views. It was fitted for ten passengers, a driver and a courier, perfect for what they needed. Nicolaides had found it for him. Raine’s delegation was going to be staying in serviced apartments in Lady Alys’s building. They were fully security screened and there was a gym and swimming pool on the first floor.

By was quite used to waiting in the arrivals hall. He’d expected that Raine would be with her guests, but she’d be dropping in to the military shuttleport with Lady Vorpetrie. Admiral Waleska and Raine’s mother would be here, instead. By had seen vids of them all. He’d be able to recognise them.

One of Ivan’s armsmen, Driscoll, arrived to escort Aceline Vorfolse, _Waleska_ as she was now, back to Voralys House. By didn’t know him very well, but they nodded in recognition of each other. The place was crawling with security. Everyone inside the building had been checked at least three times. It was growing to be quite tedious, even though it was necessary. Anyone would have thought the main circus would have been at the military shuttleport where the Emperor himself would be paying his respects to the casualties, but there was a horde of press milling around outside here as well.

Finally the door to the restricted customs area opened and the first of the passengers began to trickle through. By pulled himself upright from the pillar where he’d been lounging and waited for his party. About eighty or so people filtered out before he saw some obvious Betans, complete with their earrings, wide-eyed and curious as they set foot on Barrayaran soil. The taller individuals in front but obviously with them must be the travellers from Earth. He couldn’t see all of them clearly, especially when Driscoll crossed into his line of vision to welcome the Waleskas, who followed them out.

By pinned a smile to his face and squared his shoulders. His new career as tour guide was about to begin. “Welcome to Barray—”

He stopped in mid word as he saw the herm. It had to be the herm. By had never in his life seen anything so hauntingly beautiful.

A knowing smile crossed the herm’s face. “Byerly Vorrutyer, I presume.”

By pulled himself together and snapped his slack jaw shut. “Er, yes. Excuse me, please. Welcome to Barrayar, ladies, gentlemen, and honourable herm.” He clicked his heels and bowed. How could he still do that? His mind was numb.

“Vorrutyer.” Admiral Waleska stepped forward. “Thank you for looking after our friends. Aceline and I are heading directly back to Voralys House, so we’ll leave you here. Let me introduce Seth Austen, Marianna Williams, Michel Drust, and Wang Bai, all from Earth, and from Beta, Kaman Kuan, Gwen Clancy, Peter McMurray, Theoni Fazzolari, Cordelia Edwards, and this is—”

“Sela Thorne.” By finished for him. He offered his hand to each of them. “Welcome. Welcome to all of you. I’m so very sorry it’s not under better circumstances. Do you all have your luggage? Please take very good care of it as security has a nasty habit of er…” His voice dried up again as he took Sela’s hand. The herm stood a good six inches shorter than By, but its waving, golden hair sprang up from its forehead to make it look taller. He caught a faint trace of a spicy scent, totally alien but totally fascinating on a visceral level. Its androgynous figure gave no hints. It could have been a slim man or tall woman with its clean-shaven, smooth skin, and, blue, blue eyes. By had never seen such eyes. He knew he was staring and was totally unable to drag his gaze away. Cordelia Edwards laughed, breaking the spell. “Sela will do that to you every time, if you’re not used to it.”

By could feel his face go red. How gauche. He blinked at the herm. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sela spoke in a rich alto voice. “Who wouldn’t like to be admired?”

“Yes, well…er…if you’d all come with me, I have transport waiting. Admiral and Madame Waleska, please let Raine know I’ll be looking after her guests very carefully.”

What was _wrong_ with him? He felt like a tongue-tied schoolboy, all elbows and knees and raging hormones. He bit his tongue hard enough to make his eyes water. Concentrate. Equal attention for all the guests. Peter McMurray was looking at _him_ , he realised, like a dog at a bone. The Betan saw that his attention had been diverted from the herm.

“You don’t wear an earring. What would it say if you did?”

“On Barrayar, I doubt earrings would be at all popular. Honesty isn’t high on the agenda in relationships here, you’ll find. My best advice would be to sit back and wait to be approached.”

“But if you did?”

He was persistent. OK, he’d asked. “Mine would say private, hands off.”

McMurray looked disappointed. “Already spoken for?”

“No, but I prefer to choose for myself.”

“Oh, well, there’s always hope. We’re here to be entertained, so lead on, Vorrutyer.”

“Certainly, if you would follow me. It’s going to be a scrum out there. The press are feral at the moment. I can only apologise in advance.”

They had several float pallets between them, piled with luggage. It was a slow walk through the terminal to the parking lot. By felt like a mother duck shepherding her brood of ducklings through treacherous currents. There were no press inside the building but there was no shielding the passengers once they set foot outside into the lunchtime sunshine. The noise rose to a babble of sound as questions were shouted from all sides. The Betans, as one, stopped to look up at the sky far above them, and feel the soft breeze on their faces. It really wasn’t a good spot to stop and smell the roses. A few armsmen might work wonders out here, but By didn’t have that luxury. The driver of the people mover was a brawny fellow, though, and he saw them coming, slow as they were. He shouldered his way through the crowd and reversed the direction of one of the float pallets, pushing it in front of him instead of pulling it behind. It made a fairly efficient battering ram, especially when he picked up a little speed. By ushered everyone into its wake and then into the twelve-seater vehicle. He helped load the cases, counting them in to make sure nothing was left behind. He ducked inside and as the driver pressed the canopy switch found the last empty seat.

“What a circus!” He swivelled around to do one last headcount. “Yes, everyone is here. The shuttleport is not usually like that. We’ll be taking you to your accommodation for a chance to rest and freshen up. As in most places, the run in from the shuttleport is usually fairly boring, but we will be taking you across the very famous Star Bridge and through the Old Town past The Residence, where Emperor Gregor Vorbarra lives. Please sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“And where do you live, Byerly? I hope I can call you Byerly, or would you prefer Vorrutyer?”

By froze to the spot. How had he not noticed it was Sela right behind him? Gwen Clancy had the same Betan blond hair. It was impossible that he’d mixed them up, but he must have done. He turned round to sit properly and fasten his seat belt.

“Of course you can call me Byerly, or By, if you prefer.” His heart had started to beat like a drum.

“Oh, no. I can’t call you By. Your name is Byerly.”

The way it said his name, spreading out the three syllables into something rich and mellifluous, whispering the words into his ear from behind him, had By catching his breath. Was it teasing him? He could only hope.

“I…er…I live in the Old Town. I have an apartment there. The building used to be a soap factory, in the Time of Isolation.”

“Oh?” The herm thought about that for a moment. “Well, at least it should be clean.”

By had to smile. “It reminds me of that old joke. _I used to be addicted to soap_ ,”

“ _But I’m clean, now_.” Sela finished it for him. “What’s the addiction of choice round here?”

“Drugs are illegal, not to possess but to share or supply. It’s an automatic capital offence to supply addictive drugs to minors. To answer your question, purple poppers are the latest rage at the moment. It’s a liquid you can add to drinks or drink straight. I’m not fond of it.”

“Drugs are so negative,” Sela complained. “When it’s so very easy to have fun without them. There are so many opportunities every day, don’t you find?”

“I haven’t really looked,” By admitted.

“We’ll have to change _that_ then, won’t we,” Sela said. “Now, what can you tell me about this Star Bridge?”

By picked up the microphone to talk to the visitors all at once, but by the time they arrived at their destination Sela was chatting away to By like they were old friends. Sitting close like this he could see it in the driver’s mirror without looking like he was staring. He could make out the subtle swell of its breasts, but its hands were long and strong, with tapered fingers and muscled arms. It wore long tight trousers and boots with a baggy, Komarran style tunic top. Sela’s outfit was as ambiguous as its body shape. By was totally fascinated.

He pointed out landmarks to the others when he could remember and get a word in. Traffic crawled over the bridge, enabling them to have a great look at Vorhartung Castle sitting on the bluffs above the river. By hadn’t really appreciated the view before, but seeing it through the eyes of his visitors made him value it, perhaps for the first time. His city was really beautiful.

In the bustle of arrival at their appartments, checking in with security and seeing everyone found their own rooms, By couldn’t get the herm out of his mind. It wasn’t just the eyes, or the undeniable beauty of its other features. Perhaps it was the _joie de vivre_ bubbling up, infecting everyone around it. Who knew, but as sure as hell was hot he was going to make it his goal to find out.

It was going to be an intriguing two weeks.

 

 


	15. Don’t you think it’s all wonderful, Byerly?

 

 

Strelka’s was a very upper class bar and restaurant on the Great Square much patronised by ambassadorial staff. They even allowed the odd Cetagandan through their hushed and hallowed doors, as long as they could pay, so the establishment was obviously broad-minded enough to take anybody’s money but snobby enough to keep the riff-raff or the impecunious out. Byerly had only been there once before, and that was only until they had discovered he was more riff-raff than Vor. They hadn’t waited to discover if he was impecunious or not.

Philip Nicolaides had made the booking for him and he had what he’d discovered wasn’t actually Ivan’s but _Raine’s_ credit chit in his pocket. It provided a sticky problem for him, although he probably wouldn’t have gone totally overboard with Ivan’s credit, either. It only troubled him for a few minutes as he gazed at his neatly arranged wardrobe. _What to wear_ was a much more important problem right now. He’d been very sombre at the shuttleport out of genuine respect for the shocked and bereaved passengers from the _Princess Olivia_ and _Empress Laisa,_ but that was then and this was now. _Dithering_ wasn’t usually one of his problems. What was so special about tonight?

_Oh, who was he trying to kid_? He desperately wanted to impress the herm. _That_ needed analysing. His pulse quickened when he even _thought_ about Sela Thorne. What was the herm going to see in him, though? Nothing special, just a Vor hireling. A has-been hack. _A tour guide._ Would it be too crass to let slip he was a count’s heir? _Absolutely_. He could only hope someone else would do that for him.

Well, he may as well go down all guns blazing. He didn’t have time to _dither_ , if he wanted to get his hair right. He only had an hour or so between returning from getting them all settled at the apartments and heading out to collect them again. Mind made up, By reached for the brillberry magenta. Ruffles it was.

Strelka’s was all soft carpet and dim lights. Eleven was an odd number to seat for dinner, but the maitre d’ had solved the problem by placing him at the head of the table with five either side. It worked out quite well with the four ladies interspersed with the gentlemen. A very quick manoeuvre from Sela meant it was sitting at his right hand. He tried very hard not to notice the herm had made sure it sat beside him, but it suited his purposes exactly. Sela looked like a perfect angel in a subtle blue gown, thankfully not _too_ Betan but obviously exotic. There was more than a hint of cleavage. So it did wear female attire when it wanted to. It must have been a nightmare for it trying to pack a selection of each.

Even the maitre d’ looked impressed as he hurried to seat them all. Did he realise? Probably, as Ivan had told him the Betan Embassy herms hung out here, but it wasn’t his business, anyway. A bevy of minions seated the other ladies and placed snowy linen napkins in their laps before they were all handed their menus simultaneously.

By sat back. This was the sort of service to which he wished to be accustomed. It was fun to experience it for once. The maitre d’ announced all the choices, explaining which were vat protein and which genuine Barrayaran traditional dishes.

“What would you suggest, Byerly, to give us a real taste of Barrayar?” Sela asked. “I’m prepared to try anything, really.”

“Don’t we know it,” Gwen Clancy interrupted from By’s other side. “Oh, I suppose you meant the _menu_.”

“I’m sure Byerly knows what I meant.” Sela didn’t look the least bit discomforted, but gazed at him with its big blue eyes, waiting for him to speak.

He gulped. The menu. Yes. _Concentrate, By_. “Well, if you’d like to give wild caught a go, I’d suggest the rainbow trout with almond and butter sauce, and then perhaps the venison, or the stroganoff would be good, too.” He tore his gaze away from Sela to include the others. “If any of you prefer vegetarian or a lighter meal the soup would be excellent, and mushrooms are always very popular. I see they use pine nuts, which are delicious.”

He settled on the fish and venison for himself, and chose two bottles of Vorbarra estate Roussane for the first course and a hearty Vorkosigan estate Carménère blend to accompany the game. Sela, he noticed, refused the alcohol. “Do you prefer not to drink wine, or is it alcohol in general you dislike?” he asked.

“Oh, I drink—”

“Like a fish,” the irrepressible Gwen interrupted again. Sela frowned at her.

“As I was saying, I drink alcohol, but I get unspeakable jump sickness, I have discovered. I still have the medication in my system, too. Give me another day or two and I should be fine.”

Gwen had an evil expression on her face. “Yes, Sela’s really subdued at the moment. You should see it when it gets on a roll. That poor lieutenant on Raine’s protection squad didn’t know what had hit him.”

“Lieutenant Vorberg?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Sela was quite taken with him.”

The herm rolled its eyes. “Well, if he’d had the decency to wear an earring there wouldn’t have been any embarrassment, would there? Not that _I_ was embarrassed, mind you.”

By watched it in fascination. “No, I don’t suppose you would be, but Vorberg, on the other hand, would probably never have seen anything like you. Did he even realise you’re a herm?”

Sela’s deep chuckle told him the answer. “Poor Vorberg. I hope he’s not scarred for life.”

Gwen winked at them both. “I think Cordelia might have scarred him more than Sela ever did. Something about the Vicereine?”

“Oh dear. He’s going to have to get over name association. There must be hundreds of Cordelias on Beta, just like here on Barrayar.” By had to admit his imagination boggled at making love to anyone called Cordelia. It was just… _wrong_.

The dinner passed off very well. By shuddered when he saw the bill, but they’d none of them eaten or drunk to excess. It was nearly midnight when they at last decided to leave and the doorman called up autocabs for them all.

Sela hung back a little. “Is it safe to walk home? I’m really trying to get rid of the last of this jump sickness. Fresh air is so _exciting_ for someone like me. It’s only a few kilometres, isn’t it?”

“You can’t walk on your own.” By waved off the four Earthers in the first autocab and started loading up the second. “Anyone else want to walk?”

There was a deafening silence. “OK, squeeze five into this one. I’ll walk with you, Sela.” It wasn’t strictly legal, but Gwen Clancy was a tiny little thing. She sat on Peter’s knee and by the looks of things he didn’t mind a bit.

Sela watched the autocab disappear around a corner. It turned back to Byerly. “Don’t you live the other way, in the old town? I don’t want to put you out.”

“All part of the service.” By didn’t know whether to offer his arm or not. Sela decided for him as it started off at a brisk pace across the square. By had to stride out to catch up. For someone suffering from jump sickness it was remarkably spry. They’d got to the middle of the square, not far from the traitor’s post when Sela stopped suddenly and threw its arms out and head back.

“I’m on Barrayar!”

It started to twirl round like a mad dervish, its gown swirling out like a silken bell all around. By saw a municipal guard ground car slow to take a good look at them. He raised a hand in embarrassed acknowledgement. They needed to take their celebration somewhere else. He couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. Sela was drunk with the joy of just _being_. The herm was so vitally _alive_. He’d never seen anything like it.

“Sela, you’re going to get us arrested,” he protested, trying and failing to catch its whirling arms.

“I don’t care! It’s wonderful. Don’t you think it’s all wonderful, Byerly?”

The world seemed to stop for him. All he could see was Sela’s joyous face, mischief dancing in its eyes. He whispered, “Oh, yes, yes I do.” Out of nowhere tears sprang into his eyes. “ _O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, in measure rain thy joy, scant this excess_!”

Sela had calmed down at last and turned a laughing face towards him. “What was that you said?”

“Nothing. You really don’t want to end up in a cell for the night. How would I explain that to Raine, or Count Voralys?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to lose your job. We should behave ourselves.”

“ _We_ should? I like that. I’ve been on my best behaviour all night.”

He threw caution to the wind and grabbed Sela’s hand. “You come right along with me, you honourable young herm, and at least _act_ respectably. If I can do it, you can.”

It made no objection to holding his hand. “ _Young_ herm? It’s been years since anybody called me that. How young do you think I am?”

_Uh oh_. This was shaky ground. He guessed an age and took five years off. “Standard? Maybe twenty five?”

Sela’s delicious laugh rang out again into the night air. “Oh, Byerly, you really are a darling, aren’t you? I’m nearly fifty, standard.”

_What_? That couldn’t be right. Older than him? “Fifty? Really? I never would have guessed. However old you are you can’t go disturbing the peace.”

“I’ve been a consenting adult for thirty years.” Sela slipped its hand through By’s arm and they walked along like any of the other couples still out at this time of night.

_Shit_. By didn’t have a clue what all this meant in Betan. He’d have a damn good idea what it meant in Barrayaran, though, and the thought absolutely thrilled him.

“I—” His voice squeaked. He had to swallow and try again. “I’ve been that way for nearly twenty, myself.” He thought back. _No_. Adult, maybe. _Consenting_? That was a whole different kettle of fish. Consenting was big with Betans.

They’d reached the Star Bridge. By stopped in the middle of the span to look at the black water roiling along beneath them. There was a cold wind; summer was over here in the capital, and the leaves were beginning to turn. “We shouldn’t linger. You’ll get cold.” Sela only had a thin wrap, not ideal for wandering through Vorbarr Sultana in the middle of an autumn night.

The herm only shrugged. “Cold is something I don’t experience very often. Speaking of which, cold shoulders aren’t exactly at the top of my list of good experiences, by the way.”

“What? _No_! You can’t think—”

Sela put its finger on his lips. “I’m misbehaving. Don’t mind me. It must be those magical eyes of yours. They’re casting a spell. I have never seen anything like them. An old herm like me could drown in them. And those eyelashes. Are they real?”

“What? My _eyelashes_?” By felt so off balance it wasn’t funny. “Yes, they’re real. It’s a family trait. If you ever get to meet my cousin Dono you’ll see he has eyes exactly the same as mine.”

“That would be your cousin the count. The one who used to be a woman.”

So it had heard about Dono, and obviously didn’t mind a bit. Well, it wouldn’t, would it, being Betan and all. By started to relax. This _old herm_ was after a fling. Surely there’d be an opportunity to oblige. Not tonight though. He didn’t want to look _easy_. Besides, having a fling might be way too dangerous. He wasn’t so sure he could do that with Sela. He tried to break his suddenly sombre mood as he turned away from the water.

He started walking again, with an arm round Sela’s shoulders. It wasn’t far to its apartment building from here. When they finally reached the foyer the bored security guard acknowledged their presence and promptly ignored them.

“Would you like to come up?” Sela asked.

He took a deep breath. “I’d very much like to come up, but not tonight. I still have work to do, and…well…I need to think about this, about _you_. You don’t know anything about me. I’m not exactly respectable. If you had a Vor dragon for a mother she’d be hauling you away so fast your feet wouldn’t touch the floor.”

Sela cocked its head. “Are you warning me off, or giving me fair warning?”

“I’d never want to warn you off.”

It smiled at him. By’s resolve wavered horribly, but he took a step back and kissed its hand.

“Goodnight. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, I’m taking you all touring and then we’re going to lunch at Voralys House. You’ll like Ivan, the count. He’s nearly as good looking as I am.”

 

By didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry when Sela chose a seat at the back of the people mover after only the most perfunctory greeting, as far away from him as it could get. It was first on the transporter that morning, dressed in tunic and trousers again. They pulled off almost on time, at 0905 hours, and merged into the traffic stream as he did his best to be professional and impersonal. He’d had no sleep the night before, walking back to the caravanseri to try and clear his head. Sela was highly confident, highly successful by the looks and in no need of a battered old reprobate like him. _It likes my eyes, though,_ a little voice reminded him. It worked at Raine’s theme hotel as assistant manager and publicity agent, he’d discovered the night before. It was only here for two weeks and would head right back home to Beta and probably think nothing more about its holiday to this godforsaken backwater. By forced himself back to matters at hand.

“And here we have the University District. This was the last area in Vorbarr Sultana to be developed before the Time of Isolation ended. As you can see, the style favoured was pseudo-Victorian, harking back a thousand years or more to Old Earth. The handsome, four-storey terraces are highly sought after by university staff and are looked after extremely well. These dwellings were not originally fitted for electricity or any other form of power except for wood-burning fireplaces and stoves, with wax and tallow candles for lighting. Spring is the best time to see the flower boxes, but at this time of year the trees are wonderful, as you can see. It’s said to be very good luck if you can catch a falling leaf.” _It likes my eyelashes, too…_

They arrived at Voralys House right on schedule for lunch. Byerly stood ready to help people down from the high vehicle. It was like herding cats, trying to get them all in the front door without any wandering off to take a vid. He was getting very good at counting to ten, but this time he only reached nine. _Oh!_

First on the transporter meant last off, of course. By almost gave himself whiplash as he turned back to see Sela sitting, waiting for him. It’s face broke into a slow, knowing smile. “Did you miss me, Byerly?”

He held his hand out to help the herm down. “I did, actually. Come on, you don’t want to miss anything inside. I’d like to get your opinion on the decor. It was my first effort.”

“So you’re a decorator as well?” Sela held on to his hand as they walked up to the entrance. “I should have expected it. You’re not just a pretty face, are you? I wonder what the rest of you is like.”

Armsman Fox, standing at rigid attention at the front door, opened his eyes just a little wider. He’d heard every word.

Ivan and Raine were awaiting them all in the hall. By was so gobsmacked at what Sela had just said he forgot his manners. Fox had to step into the breach.

“Count Voralys. Your visitors have arrived.” He stared very pointedly at By.

He must look like all kinds of an idiot. “Oh, er, yes. Quite so. Count, may I introduce, from Earth, Seth Austen, Marianna Williams, Michel Drust, and Wang Bai.”

They all lined up to shake hands. Marianna curtsied. Wasn’t Ivan going to love that? He had to hide a smile behind his hand before he continued. “And from Beta Colony, may I introduce Kaman Kuan, Gwen Clancy, Peter McMurray, Theoni Fazzolari, Cordelia Edwards, and this is Sela Thorne.”

Ivan had put his best foot forward, dressed in his smart House uniform. He did his best High Vor act. “Welcome, everyone. Welcome to Barrayar and to Voralys House. I trust By has been looking after you?”

“Oh, he’s been looking,” Sela said. Kaman snickered, hurriedly smothering his laugh with a hand. Gwen turned bright red and turned away to grin. Ivan gave By a wide-eyed stare before he stumbled on.

“Yes, um, well, shall we go through to the dining room? If anyone would care to freshen up first, my armsmen will escort you to the facilities.”

The armsmen took all the visitors off to the cloakrooms. By was quite impressed to see Ivan had thought of arrangements for the herm. He _had_ been doing his homework.

“Put your tongue back in, By,” Ivan said. “It’s not like you to be _obvious_.”

What? Had he been staring? Of course he had. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Sela. “Have you ever seen anything like it? It’s positively enchanting. I’m doomed, Ivan, doomed.”

Raine smiled at him. “Did you read its earring? It translates roughly as _herm, presently available_ , _always willing to be entertained._ Sela won’t be a pushover, By. You’re going to have to charm it if you want to get anywhere. Flowers, chocolates, maybe tickets to the wrestling championships. I bet it would just die to go skiing. Use your imagination.”

Raine looked badly strained. This was the first time he’d seen her since she’d come home. He was going to have to try and take her mind off the awful things happening out there.

_Use his imagination ?_ What else had he been doing for the past twenty six hours? “Oh, I am, Raine. Believe me. I am.”

 

 


	16. Grab that key!

 

 

Mother By and her little chicks arrived in Rotherhall. He’d been warned what to expect but the effect on the Betans, and the Earthers to a slightly lesser extent, was magical. Their transport from the shuttleport to the town square had sixteen legs, twenty if farmer Eccles and his lad were counted as well. It took a long time to get them aboard the _Diligence_ , as Etienne Vorinnis called it. Public transport coach and horses was a simpler name. The Barrayar Blacks looked magnificent as they waited patiently for all the fuss to die down. They could even cope with the squeals every time they tossed their heads or twitched. By knew without looking who the worst offender was.

“Sela, _don’t_ scare the horses! No, you can’t ride _on_ them and please don’t feed them anything Farmer Eccles hasn’t given you!”

Eccles good-naturedly took the hint and climbed down from his perch to hand out carrots and apples all round. He gave a quick demonstration of how to avoid losing a hand and his lad played along with his cuff pulled down over his fist to show what could go wrong. By had a snicker when he saw that one or two of them actually believed the leg-pulling. Sela quickly appropriated the food from Cordelia and Kaman, who weren’t game to try and By slipped it the apple he’d been given, too, so it ended up with something for each of the horses.

“You do realise lunch is waiting. Everyone on board, please.” By rolled his eyes at Etienne. “You have no idea what it’s like. _Everything_ is novel and exciting for them. We spent twenty minutes trying to catch leaves in the park in New Sheffield. We were only supposed to drive through and see the autumn foliage.”

“I wondered why you were late.” The major’s tone was a bit clipped. By looked at him sideways. Gregor’s ex-aide-de-camp hadn’t seen By since the bad old days, of course. He was probably wondering what on the three worlds Ivan thought he was doing, letting a Vorrutyer loose on unsuspecting visitors. Fair enough; By had wondered the same thing, but he was _enjoying_ it.

“How do you like your cloak?” By asked in return. “It gives you a certain _air_ , doesn’t it? Nothing like a bit of swagger to impress the tourists. Don’t go telling them you’re Lord Vordagger, though. They all know that’s Ivan.”

“And how would they know that?” Vorinnis wasn’t getting into the _swing_ of things, was he?

“They’re not stupid, plus I told them, of course, after Michel over there asked me if _I_ was the inspiration for his derring deeds. I couldn’t tell a lie now, could I?”

“Why not? You’ve had plenty of practise.”

“Ooh, that’s harsh, Etienne. I’m a changed man, don’t you know?”

Major Vorinnis gave him a very hard stare. “No, I don’t know, and you need to remember I have Ivan’s very best interests at heart.”

“Of course.” By wasn’t going to win him over in a hurry, which was as things should be. He’d been getting used to being treated with _some_ respect. Perhaps the major would realise, given time. By had Ivan’s best interests at heart, too.

By hook or by crook they were all loaded up at last and they set off for the _Black Sheep_ , the Time of Isolation fortified inn on the town square. He’d had a few good lessons in seeing things through a stranger’s eyes. Ivan had seen the potential of the unspoiled town straight away; the beautiful, mellow stone buildings round the cobbled square, the ancient architecture, the emphasis on agricultural pursuits. This was the first time he’d seen his livery designs en masse, too. Vorinnis, despite By’s gentle teasing, really did look the part, and everyone else did, too, especially the staff at the hotel. The landlady, Mrs Williams, in her trim bolero and flared skirt, reminded him of his old nurse, the only woman who had ever shown him any affection without demanding something in return. She had that same twinkling smile on her face as she welcomed them all. Vorinnis had briefed her about the herm, By had been told, but he still kept a keen watch out to make sure it wasn’t made to feel uncomfortable. He needn’t have worried. Mrs Williams treated them all like long lost kin. As she handed out keys and had to wait for the wonder to die down about, yes, actual old mechanical metal _keys_ , she explained about the lack of comconsoles.

“There’s a public communications centre behind the town hall, open twenty six hours a day, but Count Voralys would really like to encourage you to embrace the authentic experience as much as possible. We can arrange for battery packs if any of you require an electricity supply. Vorrutyer here needs one for his hairdryer, I know, So please just take one with you as you go up, or pull the bell wire near your door for assistance. One ring will bring a chambermaid and two the porter. It’s all explained in your rooms.”

He took the key she handed him. _Honeymoon suite_?

“We couldn’t really give it to any of the offworlders and show favouritism, sir, so we thought you would enjoy it. Such a pity you’re not married, though. Major Vorinnis told me you were still single. Still, I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy your time.”

She spoke with such a straight face he didn’t quite know how to take it, but Vorinnis had obviously put his own spin on her words. His ever so swift gesture was a very common insult By had seen too many times before. Once Mrs Williams had passed out of earshot he smirked at the major and spoke in an undertone. “I don’t think I’ll have to resort to _that_ , Vorinnis. You obviously make a great deal more use of your right hand than I do. See you in the dining room.”

The honeymoon suite was rather fine, he had to admit. The wood-panelled room held a huge four-poster bed with hangings in Voralys blue, a broad fireplace with an ankle-deep sheepskin rug in front of it, and a bath in the en-suite that could drown a horse. Lead-light windows opened on to the main square two floors below, and there was a small table with chairs set to one side of the fireplace. A porter came in with his valise and laid it on a blue velvet chaise which stood at the foot of the bed. “Would you like me to unpack for you, sir? The chambermaid will be along in a few minutes to collect any items for pressing.”

“No, thank you. Please see if any of the count’s guests require assistance. I’ll just rub along on my own for now.”

“Sir.” The young man bowed and disappeared without even looking like he wanted a tip. By was so out of the habit he hadn’t thought of offering one. It only took a few minutes to lay his underwear in drawers and find a spot in the bathroom for his toiletries and hairdryer. The promised chamber maid came by and whisked his suits and shirts away. She couldn’t do anything too dreadful to them, hopefully. By crossed his fingers and ran back down the stairs to the dining room. By tacit agreement he called a truce with Etienne Vorinnis and they ran over the schedule for the next few days while they were waiting for everyone to assemble. Local guides were lined up for historical tours, a visit to the Eccles’ farm and a fire pit cook out at the sports stadium, so his duties were going to be light. So far so good. They’d made the decision in the town to bring forward their harvest festival by a week to allow the visitors a chance to see it.

“It’s been a very good season, apparently,” Vorinnis told him. “Everything happened early this year so it’s no problem to bring it all forward. There’s a few trees that have been left for your friends to pick some late apples if they’d like to, or they can join in with cider making, threshing and flour milling. We got the word that the Earthers would like to help plant trees, so that’s been arranged.”

He produced a stack of flimsies. “Here’s a diary of the regular town activities you’re all very welcome to attend, from choir rehearsals to the mothers’ union to the philosophical society. Just hand them out, will you? There’s dancing, wreath making for the festival, and a whole plethora of cooking opportunities as well. All you’ll have to do is co-ordinate them. Oh, and it’s market day tomorrow, of course. Let them all know they might be woken early.”

By glanced through the sheets. “It all seems to be very good.” He looked away from the lists to talk directly to Vorinnis. “Thank you for all your hard work. Ivan’s going to be thrilled with all of this. It’s pretty frantic in the capital at the moment, as you can well imagine, so the least he has to worry about here, the better.”

“I’m really glad to be out of it, to be honest.” Vorinnis _did_ look glad to be in a sleepy little backwater like Rotherhall. “My shoulder-blades itch at the very thought of space pirates and security scares. I’ll bet Miles Vorkosigan is in his element, though.”

“Last I heard of him he was on his way back from Komarr. Raine and Admiral Waleska were heavily involved in the drama, too.”

“Good old Wally.” Vorinnis paused to look out of the window. “I owe him more than I can say.”

 

After lunch and a quick briefing where By handed round the flimsies he set his chicks free to wander the town by themselves. They’d formally visit the cooperage and brewery and saddlery in the morning, after they’d enjoyed the market and before heading out to the farm, but it was obvious they were all bursting to take vids and go shopping. He waited long enough to make sure no-one was left on their own or at a loose end before deciding to wander over to a café and relax for a while. It was still warm in the afternoon sun. There was a grape vine growing over a trellis, its leaves all shades of russet, red and purple. It reminded him all of a sudden of Shoko’s on the Great Square, and the decision he’d made to warn Ekaterin and Raine. What hadn’t sprung from that split-second realisation of danger?

It was so different relaxing here, far away from that city that never really slept. Too quiet for him, a lovely place to visit, of course, but he was happiest in an urban setting. Etienne Vorinnis could keep Rotherhall; By wasn’t going to interfere. He could see a few of his charges wandering around. Gwen and Peter seemed to have palled up since their ride in the autocab. He watched them wander into the souvenir shop. The four Eathers were still hanging around together. Not precisely a clique, By decided, but every-so-slightly stand-offish. They needed to broaden their horizons. He’d split them up at the farm and get them talking to the Betans. Kaman, Theoni and Cordelia waved to him from the other side of the square. He’d thought Sela had gone off with them, but there was no sign of the herm as the three others disappeared inside the library. He felt a little prickle of alarm. Ivan had specifically asked him to buddy up with Sela to make sure nothing went wrong. After another five minutes worrying he drained his coffee and went looking.

 _The craft shop_. Seriously, of all places to look for a herm, the craft shop was the last place he’d pick. He found Sela hob-nobbing with the owner over the relative merits of wool versus cashmere.

“I’m going to knit you a scarf, Byerly,” Sela said when it caught sight of him hovering in the doorway. “Would you like brown to match your eyes, or perhaps green, to go with that divine brillberry magenta suit of yours? What do you think?”

By tried to imagine himself wandering round the salons of Vorbarr Sultana with a hand-knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. The vision was very strongly appealing, and the longer the better. Or perhaps tucked into the turned-up collar of his greatcoat when winter came? _Something to remember Sela by when it was far away_. He had to blink. “I would love an emerald green scarf. It’s one of my favourite colours.”

“That’s settled then. You came in at just the right time. And cashmere, don’t you think, madame? Now that you’ve seen him wouldn’t you say Byerly is a cashmere sort of person?”

The highly-amused proprietor could only agree with Sela’s choice. It was three times the price of the wool, after all, By was quick to notice. Not cheap.

“What’s _your_ favourite colour, Sela?” he asked. “Perhaps you could show me how to knit one for you?”

“Oh, sir, men don’t—” The proprietor stopped herself. It was like she’d remembered her briefing just in time. Galactics weren’t like _normal_ people. Sela pretended it hadn’t heard.

“Violet. I love violet. Would you really do that for me, Byerly?”

“You might not thank me for it.” By selected a hank from the display and held it up beside Sela’s face. “Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.”

Sela, with his back to the proprietor, murmured quietly. “The colour’s not bad, either.”

By tried to suppress a laugh. “We’ll have to see how it turns out. Do I need a pattern?”

“Wool might be a better choice if you’re justing starting, sir,” The proprietor said. “It’s much easier to work.”

“No.” Byerly looked at Sela. “Sela Thorne is a cashmere sort of person, too.”

Two sets of needles, two slightly different patterns and six hanks of her best cashmere. The proprietor was very happy to see the Galactics in town.

“We can make a start before dinner, if you like,” Sela suggested as they strolled back into the square.

“I like.” By wanted to get private with the herm. “There’s a table in my room, to put the patterns on. You’re going to have to translate for me, you realise.” He pulled one of the patterns from the shopping bag and read out a section. “K, K2tog, P, RS, ssk. Even an ImpSec analyst would be hard put to make sense of that. Perhaps you’re really a Cetagandan agent and that lady was your blind drop.”

Sela stared at him.“You do have a lurid imagination, and what, pray tell, would you know about blind drops?”

 _Oh, shit._ “I saw it on a holovid.” By tried to cover up his gaffe. “Every secret agent has a blind drop, don’t they? Like Captain Vortalon’s Spy?”

“Captain Vortalon?”

“Oh, no visit to Barrayar is complete without a few episodes of Captain Vortalon! Sela, you’ve been missing out.”

“I’ll have to miss out a while longer, won’t I? We can’t watch them back at the hotel."

“That’s true.” By had forgotten. He’d been about to suggest borrowing a few episodes from the library.

“Never mind. Perhaps I can come back to your place, once we get back to Vorbarr Sultana?”

His place? “ _No!_ ” Oh, that sounded terrible. Sela would be mortally offended. “No, I’m sorry, Sela, my place isn’t suitable.”

It was looking at him with a strange expression on its face. It spoke very softly. “That’s fine, Byerly. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He tried to deny it. “You didn’t upset me. My place…it’s…no, it’s not suitable.”

What was so bad about Sela coming back to his place? _Sela was going home to Beta,_ that’s what was so bad. By couldn’t bear the thought of waking up, and going home again, when Sela wouldn’t be there. He didn’t want memories to haunt him in the only place he truly felt safe. It would be bad enough as it was.

“Anyway, we’re going to be too busy knitting to worry about Captain Vortalon, aren’t we?” Sela reminded him. “Come along, I’m going to initiate you into the mysteries of K, K2 tog.”

The afternoon sun slanted through the windows in By’s room. The golden beams lit tiny motes drifting in the air. Sela wandered around, touching the wood panelling, listening at the window to the noises in the square below. It stood for some time, looking down at the rug.

“I wonder what unfortunate animal that belonged to?”

“Oh, a sheep, no doubt. It would have had a very happy life before it got eaten, with a coat in that condition.”

Sela shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Shall we talk, Byerly?”

“Sure.” By could feel his pulse start to quicken. He indicated the table and chairs. “After you.”

Sela patted the chaise. “No, after you.”

They sat, side by side, contemplating the fireplace. Sela shuffled over until they were touching from shoulder to knee. It took hold of By’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “Would you like to make love with me, Byerly?”

He could feel himself shudder. “I think that might be very dangerous.”

Sela started to stroke his hand. “Why is that? You can tell me, you know. You’re so very guarded. You really don’t want me to see what you’re feeling, do you?”

His chest was tight. He could hardly breathe. “I feel…I feel despair, I suppose, that I should meet you _now_. I’ve done too many bad things, Sela.”

“You feel there’s no redemption for you? I don’t _care_ what you’ve done. It’s what you’re going to do that counts. Do you care what I’ve done, in my past?”

“No. You can’t have done anything so bad. You’re too—I don’t know. Too free of deceit, I think. _You_ wouldn’t have hurt anyone.”

“Who hurt _you_ , Byerly?” Sela’s arm was round his shoulders, now.

Where to start? “Too many people, when I was too young to fight back. The people who should have been listening to me, mostly.”

“And you’ve taken it out on the world ever since. You need more joy in your life. You deserve joy _every_ day.”

Joy? What was that? The nearest he came to joy was malicious delight when he’d managed to trick or offend someone who deserved it. “You have more joy in you than I can begin to imagine, Sela. You can see joy in cashmere, and carved wooden panels, in slobbery horses and in the stars looking down on Vorbarr Sultana. How do you do that?”

“ _How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping_?"

By tried to laugh. “Not you, too. Is there anyone who doesn’t read Shakespeare?”

“How could you not read Shakespeare? Try this one, slightly edited to fit our present circumstances, of course. _Joy, gentle friend! Joy and fresh days of love accompany your heart!_ ”

By rubbed his face. “Joy. Righto. I can manage joy…Er, Sela?”

“Yes?”

“How do we actually _do_ this?”

Sela didn’t laugh. “Very sensible question under the circumstances. How do you want to do it? What are your preferences?”

They were getting very Betan, weren’t they? Well, doing things the Barrayaran way hadn’t exactly worked out for him, had it? “I’m—I don’t have preferences. I’m bisexual.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place then, haven’t you?” Sela leapt to its feet. “My preference is horizontal, to start with, and preferably warm and naked. Grab that key and lock the door.”

 

 


	17. In, over, through and off

 

 

The click of the key turning in the lock sounded loudly in the suddenly silent room. By looked uncertainly over his shoulder, but didn’t move.

Sela held out its hand. “I think we still have some talking to do, don’t we? Come on, I don’t bite, unless it’s in self defence. Or unless you want me to, of course.”

By turned but stood where he was. What was Sela expecting? Some brutal Barrayaran Vor who would take what he wanted? The thought of anyone hurting Sela made him feel sick. “I don’t like anyone getting hurt.”

Sela looked at him again for a few more heartbeats. “Especially not you?”

He was used to pain, but he couldn’t stomach the thought of Sela suffering in any shape or form. “Either of us. I would never hurt you. I _won’t_ do that.”

There was a strange emotion showing on Sela’s face. He couldn’t bear for it to be pity. The herm just nodded its head in acknowledgment. “Noted. No rough stuff. So what about a massage to start with? You are one uptight individual just now, Byerly Vorrutyer. If a massage is _all_ you want I can work with that. You’re so beautiful, though, Byerly. I warn you now _I_ want more than a massage. _Eventually_. I can wait if I have to. I need you to trust me.”

There was something badly wrong with him. Sela was offering him everything. What was holding him back? _Fear_. He was so afraid. He took a step closer, and then another. Sela waited patiently with a half smile on its face and a hand held towards him. It wasn’t that Sela was a herm. The thought of that was utterly fascinating. What, then? He carefully took hold of Sela’s hand and stared down at it.

_It was too precious by far for casual sex_. A quick roll in the bed and off to dinner afterwards? _He didn’t want that_. If he let himself go now his heart would never be whole again. Not when Sela went back to Beta.

Sela used a single finger to push him in the chest towards the bed. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Sit down. I’ll take your boots off and you can do mine. I want to see if your feet are as slender as your hands are.”

By submitted to being undressed; Boots, socks, tunic top, shirt. Sela took its time, not talking, just looking. This was all a bit one sided. He ignored the choking in his throat and rolled off the bed again. Sela obligingly held up one foot and then the other. It had high arches and pale, pale skin. As the socks came off he discovered bright varnished toenails in a shocking scarlet. The sight was so typically Sela it broke the tension. By laughed all of a sudden as he messaged the delicate foot.

“I can’t call you a scarlet woman. Your fingernails aren’t varnished. Why is that?”

“I took my briefing seriously. I didn’t want to offend the locals. If they want to put me in a male box that’s fine by me. I realise I’m somewhat out of the ordinary down here.”

“The craft shop woman thought you were female. She was only shocked at _me_ wanting to knit.” By was making progress. He carefully folded Sela’s tunic top and laid it on a chair. Its undershirt soon followed.“Oh.” He lost the ability to breathe for a moment. “Oh, there’s nothing male about that.”

Sela reached for By’s hand again and pressed it to its breast. “I have the best of both worlds.”

“You, or me? Sela!” By’s voice sounded harsh in his ears as he hauled it into his arms, a half sob of longing and need forcing its way from his throat. They fell back together in a tangle of arms and legs and mouths. Sela threaded its fingers through his hair and mussed it up ruthlessly.

“ _Relax_. You don’t have to be on your best behaviour.”

Two minutes later they were warm and naked under the sheets. Sela had the musculature of a man but the wide flare of hips and the swell of breasts of a sensuous woman. It tilted its head back in appreciation as By caressed one breast and then the other. It was endlessly enchanting and captivating. He’d told Ivan he was doomed. How right he’d been.

His worst curiosity was satisfied by the nest of golden curls at the top of Sela’s thighs. The herm laughed at his tentative glance of inspection.

“Male first, female second, if that’s what you wanted to ask. It works best that way. Or it did, in the olden days, with body births. See what you think.”

By looked some more. His hand explored gently and Sela sucked in a sharp breath. There were endless questions. “Do you have two orgasms, or just the one?”

The herm chuckled. “As many as I can get. It’s hard to explain. Male ones are more centred, if that makes sense. Female ones, well, for me, they’re the best. It varies among the herms depending on preference. Of course, both at once is just delicious.”

By's hand slid across Sela’s thigh, up, over its hip and along the length of curving back. “Your skin is so soft.”

“Indoor living. No harsh elements to batter me about.” Sela reciprocated, lightly outlining By’s muscled arms, trailing a hand across his chest and circling his nipple with a feather touch. The fingers moved up to outline his eyebrows and clenched jaw. “Something’s still wrong, isn’t it? Spit it out.”

By drew back to look at it. “Only if I have to.”

The joke fell flat. Sela waited for him to say what he was really thinking. By closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at that kind, concerned expression. “Sela, when I was younger—” He broke off, swallowed convulsively and forced himself to go on. “There were times, back then, when I used to do this for money.”

The sky didn’t fall on him. Sela didn’t even pause in stroking his hair. “And I used to do this for a bunch of flowers and a good meal, and I wasn’t _desperate_. You were forced into it. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Only at first, for a while.” He made himself go on. “Then, for a year or two, it was just a job. Males or females. It didn’t matter. Some of those fat industrialists really got off on screwing a Vor. I charged _them_ double, when I could.”

“Hmm.” Sela was silent for a moment or two. Was it going to back away and leave him in utter disgust? “That was then and this is now. You do _not_ have to do anything you don’t want to do. Not any more. _Never again_. Do you understand, Byerly? Have you worked out the difference between having sex and making love?”

It was impossible to believe Sela didn’t mind. A torrent of emotion swamped him. His hand started to shake. He could feel himself shaking all over. He’d hated himself for so long, hated what he’d done, and _Sela didn’t mind_. A harsh sob wracked his throat, then another. He laid his head on Sela’s breast and wept. He could hear it murmuring into his ear.

“You’re safe now, Byerly. I’m going to look after you. No one’s going to hurt you again.”

_If only that was true._

 

“Have we missed dinner?”

“Hm, what?” By had been cocooned in warmth and comfort, half dozing, half basking in Sela’s strong arms. The tears had dried at last and his breathing had subsided from anguished gasps to slow calm. He drew back a little to look at the chrono he was still wearing. “No, there’s another hour, yet.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your extra hours still throw me out.” Sela kissed him on the forehead. “Shower time. You have ten minutes, no more, to style that hair of yours just right, and then we can get started with the knitting lesson you _lured_ me in here with. I still want my scarf.”

By swallowed the convulsive sob that rose up again and changed it into a laugh. He’d done enough crying. He gave Sela a great, smacking kiss and rolled out of the bed to dart into the bathroom. He ducked his head back out, round the half-open door. “We’ll save that bath for later.”

Sela stretched and lay back languidly. “Not too much later. Hurry up. When we finally do make love that’s going to be a very good place to start.”

By ducked back out again. The shower was running. “Sela?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Sela threw a pillow at him. “Make that nine minutes.”

 

“In, over, through and off. If you go into the back of the left hand needle, that’s a _knit_. If you come in from the top go in front of the needle, that’s a _purl_. Do you see the difference? And, that, my friend is all you need, once you’ve mastered how to hold the yarn.” It was the third time Sela had shown him how to do it. How could something so simple be so hard? It whipped through five rows of its own pattern before By reached the end of his first row.

“OK. I’ve got it now, I think. What’s K2 tog?”

“ _Knit two together_. That’s how you decrease the number of stitches. If you do YRN after that, which is _yarn round needle_ , you make a hole and keep the same number of stitches. With this pattern all you need to do is count to fifty. Pattern down and purl back and you have two rows.”

By looked at his mangled work. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is. You just need practice.”

He sighed. It was hard to concentrate, that was the problem. Sela was too close. He could smell the herbal shampoo it used, and see the gentle rise and fall of its breast as it breathed. _In, over, through and off_.

There was a knock at the door and an impatient rattle at the handle. By stood up to unlock it and Gwen stuck her head in. “Is Sela here? I knew it. Caught in the—” She stopped, her face a picture of bewildered incredulity. “You’re _knitting_? Are you kidding me?”

“Well, Sela’s knitting. It’s giving me lessons. All I’m doing at the moment is a lot of swearing and pulling out. I think I’m beginning to see the star at the end of the wormhole, though.” By held up his needles to show her. “Nice colour, don’t you think?”

“Yes, right.” There was no scandal to gossip about here. Gwen was disappointed, but she recovered well. “Anyway, dinner’s ready. I volunteered to find you. Are you coming?”

“I’m starving.” Sela rolled up its knitting and followed Gwen out. It was its turn to poke its head back round the door. “Come on, you’re far too skinny. You need to eat more. After that we have plans for this evening.”

By wiggled his eyebrows. “I know.”

“Not those sort of plans. Haven’t you seen the list of activities? We’re going dancing. I’m going to _joy_ you to death, Byerly Vorrutyer.”

The dancing practice took place in the Agricultural Hall. Like the rest of the town it was an old, Time of Isolation building with parquet floors and a high, hammer beam roof. The men gathered there were farmers and shopkeepers, ranging through all ages from young lads to grey-haired grandfathers. There was one slightly awkward moment when the _squire_ approached the two of them. “You’re very welcome, sir, of course, but it’s a strict tradition of no women are allowed. We don’t want to cause any offence, but ’tis awful bad luck to have one dancing.”

He looked so earnest, and so apologetic. By took him off to one side and whispered into his ear. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. Sela isn’t a woman.”

“She isn’t?” The man gaped at him.

By shook his head. “From Beta, don’t you know? They look different, there.”

“Major Vorinnis told us all how our visitors were Galactics and we needed to expect folks to be different.” He still looked dubious. “Are you sure?”

“Guaranteed. We can have a pissing competition later, if you like.”

The _squire_ let out a guffaw of laughter. “No need for that, sir. Come and take your places and follow the caller. We’re just about ready for the festival. We can put in a bit more effort to rehearse now that the crops are off. We’ll be here every night this week.” He produced ribbons and bells for them and showed them how to buckle the bells round their calves.

“You got a handkerchief?”

“Always.” By produced his snowy white cloth and shook it out. Sela’s had a narrow trim of white lace. By couldn’t repress a smile as Sela waved it around.

“I’ll buy a plain one tomorrow. Maybe I’ll buy a few. Some of these wouldn’t pass the microbiology screen, would they?”

It was a fairly simple set of steps. Sela took to it all like a duck to water and even begged a go at playing the fiddle for the rest of them. Of course it could play a violin. It was brilliant at everything. It was impossible to be glum with Sela around. It had the whole hall rocking with laughter with its interpretation of the tunes. By stood back for a while, but he was pulled in to pair another dancer when a grizzled old farmer had to sit down and catch his breath.The smocked _fool_ sneaked up behind him and whacked his careful hairstyle with a pig bladder.

“Where’s t’hat? You have to have a hat.”

Someone else produced an old and battered one. Generations of sweaty dancers must have worn it, but By threw his distaste to the wind and jammed it on his head to the cheers of the others. They ran through the performance one more time and finally called it a night.

“Beer’s on me!” Sela wiped the violin and bow and returned it to its owner. “The _Black Sheep,_ everyone?”

Surprisingly, most of the farmers and lads were quite restrained with the free beer. The _squire_ explained it to him. “Nobody wants a sore head in the morning. We’ll be milking before long. Most of them would be fast asleep by now, normally. Wait for the festival, though. That’ll be a different story.”

It was still an hour to midnight. By thought that Sela looked tired. He walked up behind it and whispered in its ear. “You should go to bed.” Sela whipped round to face him. They were so close they were almost touching. By’s smile started off as a little quirk of the lips and gradually spread until he was grinning like a fool. “About that bath…”

“Indeed. The bath. Shall we try it out?”

By held out his hand. “Oh, yes.”

With no mains electricity the bedroom was dim in the light of the touch-lamps spread around the room. It would be a nightmare if you wanted to work, By thought, but these good people probably just used bedrooms for sleeping. He arranged some of the lamps along the windowsill in the bathroom, then started the water running. Sela added a few drops of oil.

“Lavender. It will help you relax.”

“Any more relaxed and I’ll be fast asleep,” By said. “I haven’t been this relaxed in fifteen years.” It was true, he realised. The weight he’d been carrying for so long had been lifted.

“Oh, you still need more work.” Sela started to unfasten By’s tunic. It didn’t get very far before By took matters into his own hands, practically ripping the tunic over his head before he started to hop around, trying to pull his boots off while still standing.

“Don’t blame me if you fall into that bath,” Sela remarked as it stood back to watch. “Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“Patience be damned.” By finally shed the last of his clothes and stepped into the water. “Aah…This is good. What’s keeping you?”

“Watching you. It was very entertaining. Now you get to watch _me_.” Sela sat on the edge of the bath to pull its boots off. By thought about hauling it in, boots and all.

“I can read your mind. Don’t you dare!” It stood up out of harm’s way and proceeded to make a show of undressing, lingering over each and every fastening with a slow deliberation.

“If you think this is going to get me relaxed, I have to tell you you’re wrong.” By flicked some water at Sela. “Hurry up, or I’m coming out to get you.”

Sela stepped into the other end of the bath and lay back. “Now you’ve got me here, what are you going to do with me?”

“I’m just going to look, for a little while.” By’s heartbeat began to accelerate again.

There was a swoosh and a wave of water as Sela surged forwards to sit over By’s hips. “You can look at me from here.”

By tipped forwards so that his forehead rested against Sela’s. They both spoke at once. “You have the most beautiful eyes.”

Sela laughed. “Opposites attract. Being Betan, I have to ask. Are you sure you want to do this? It’s fine if you don’t.”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so sure. I should ask, too. Have you got an implant?”

Sela nodded and bent towards him for a kiss, sweet and tender at first, but that didn’t last long. By didn’t want sweet and tender. He clutched at it in almost desperation, totally inarticulate with the wonder of having Sela here in his arms.

“Show me,” he whispered at last. “Show me how you do this.”

“It’s really quite neat.” Sela pushed himself up on its knees and reached down. Its brows rose as its eyes opened wide. “Oh my, Byerly. We _are_ going to have fun.”

Sela’s hand slid up and down in the water. By stopped thinking; all he could do was _feel_. Slowly, Sela positioned itself and sank down again.

“Oh…” By’s breath shuddered out of him. Sela moved, gasping itself as By filled it. It took By’s hand and guided it to its own erection. It felt so soft and yet so firm. By tried to process what his senses were telling him. He’d never felt anything like this before. It was all totally new.

“This is novel.” He reached out to brush Sela’s nipple with the pad of his other thumb. “What else can I do for you?”

Sela’s pupils had contracted to tiny pinpoints “Let go. _Let go_ , Byerly.”

 

 


	18. Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place_ is a quote from a wonderful American woman ― Zora Neale Hurston

 

 

“Ouch!” _Planting oak trees_. This was prole work. By looked in dismay at his dirt-smeared hands and split nail. There were little black crescents under each fingernail. That was one manicure that wouldn’t be pleasant. It was going to hurt like a sonofabitch.

“Shall I kiss it better?”

He didn’t even turn around, although his lips twitched. “No, Sela. I think I’ll survive.”

Who would have thought of all the preparation that went into planting oak trees? He’d vaguely supposed it meant dropping a few acorns into a hole before they’d come out to the plantation. But _no_. He’d been bored stupid by how to collect acorns, how to check which ones floated, they went for pig food, apparently, and which ones didn’t, then layering the good ones until they sprouted, how deep to plant the saplings _yada yada yada_ … The Earthers especially had lapped it up, drinking in every word of their briefing by an officer of Ivan’s sylviculture department. The idea of Ivan having any such thing as a sylviculture department was exquisitely amusing. It was the only thing that had saved the day. Every time he thought of it By had another silent snigger. Poor Ivan.

The herm hadn’t been stupid enough to join in with the work, instead it flitted around to take holos. By was acutely aware of his responsibility as Ivan’s host and deputy, though. He’d had to at least show willing and do a few of the tiny saplings, _not_ that he was going to kneel down in all that nasty dirt and leaf litter. Litter was right.

There was another looming presence behind him. Etienne Vorinnis sucked in a breath of disgust. Obviously a committed heterosexual, he was doing his best to radiate disapproval without being overtly hostile. Someone had got their wires crossed about him being tolerant of Galactics, or else it wasn’t Sela Vorinnis had a problem with. As Gregor’s aide-de-camp he’d dealt with much flakier people than Sela. No, it must be him. That was a fortunate circumstance. By would have had to do something about it if he made any hostile moves towards Sela. He had a good five centimetres in height on the major. He could probably run faster, too. He’d need to, if he punched him. Ivan wouldn’t like that, though. He’d have to think of a more civilised response and use his wits, like he was meant to. On the other hand, If he did decide to punch him he’d have the element of surprise. Vorinnis would never think him capable of punching anything. His hands had only just recovered from his little contretemps with Nigel Vorolney but he’d ruined them again with this manual labour. _What to do?_ By was still weighing up the pros and cons when Sela flitted away again. _Crisis averted._

He’d try the pleasant approach to Vorinnis. “So, is everything ready for the festival? You must have had a shitload of work getting it all done in time.”

“We’ve managed.”

_Or not_. He just wasn’t playing the game, was he? By sighed as he contemplated the gently rolling slope of the hill with the widely-dispersed workers each planting their own little area. With five metres between each sapling it was going to take a long time for this to look anything other than sparse. It was such a pretty scene, with the sun shining and the breeze just doing enough to keep them cool. It really did seem a shame to spoil it. He turned face to face with the major.

“Look, Vorinnis, you don’t like me. Fair enough. How is your attitude helping Ivan? _I_ can manage to be civilised around _you_. Surely you can try and do the same?”

Vorinnis looked ready to burst. He sucked in a furious breath and snarled back. “Don’t you dare criticise me, you slimy gobshite. You’ve never done a decent day’s work in your life! How would you know what hard work looked like? The sky’s just fallen in because you broke a fingernail! Boo Hoo. I don’t know what sort of a game you’re playing here, but it had better not involve Ivan. Don’t think you’re going to suck him dry, because I’m not going to let it happen.”

Respect was something to be cherished, wasn’t it? By kept a lid on his temper. It was a struggle. “Oh, my. You _definitely_ don’t like me, do you? Ivan’s been very good to you, hasn’t he, giving you a second chance like this after everything that’s happened? You’d do anything you could for him, wouldn’t you?”

“Got it in one.”

By took a step closer. They were practically nose to nose. Well, eyebrows to nose, anyway. He had to bend down to eyeball him properly. He let the emotion out, a little, just a little. “It takes a special kind of hubris to think you’re the only one. What the _fucking hell_ do you think he’s done for _me_?” He took a hissing breath, and then another calmer one, and stepped back. Pierre Le Sanguinaire had nearly peeked out just then. “I’m so glad we could have this little chat. I hope it’s cleared the air.” He turned on his heel and marched off down the hill to join the others.

The major’s voice sounded behind him. “Don’t think that herm is going to be your meal ticket, either. It’s got a family waiting for it back on Beta, don’t forget!”

That hurt. Vorinnis knew how to play dirty. By didn’t stop, but his step faltered. Three more nights here in Rotherhall and another two back in Vorbarr Sultana, and they were all due to leave. Sela was going to go home.

By stayed behind that afternoon while Etienne Vorinnis took the party out to the flour mill. He needed to pay a visit to the comcentre behind the town hall and make a few calls. His first one was to Voralys House. Ivan looked stressed when he finally answered the call. By’s report was very carefully controlled, impersonal, factual and positive. Miles Vorkosigan would have picked up that something was wrong, but Ivan wasn’t blessed with perspicacity, especially not as he was distracted with his own troubles. He took everything By said on face value.

“We’ll be down there in force for the festival, By. The Emperor has loaned me one of his shuttles. I really need to find something to distract Raine. She’s still so upset about the murders.”

“The weather should be excellent, anyway,” By said. “Sunshine and fresh air is always a tonic. We’ll have to see what else we can do to cheer her up.”

“I’d appreciate it, By. We’re supposed to be going to Delia Koudelka’s wedding next week. She’ll be like a bucket of cold water if she keeps going like this. I know she can’t help it, but weddings are supposed to be _joyous_ occasions, aren’t they?”

By winced. Joy. “Yes, joy’s in short supply at the moment, isn’t it? How is Kou holding up?”

“Kou doesn’t have a care in the world. Everything is already paid for. Drou is another matter. M’mother keeps trying to give her _advice_.”

“That’s bad.”

“Ohhh, yes. That’s why I’ll be bringing her with me for the festival. Perhaps the two of you can catch up.”

There was no perhaps about it. Ivan wanted him to help keep his mother occupied. _Perhaps_ he could talk to Lady Alys, at that. She was never at a loss in a social situation. All he needed was a bucket load of courage and nothing left to lose.

Sela tapped on his door later and poked its head in to the room.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Absolutely. Come on in.” By waited for Sela to close the door behind it. “You can tell me where the hell I went wrong this time.” He held out the fishing net attached to his knitting needles. “It’s not going well.”

“I can see that.” Sela settled at the other side of the table. “Usually, where there’s a problem, there’s a basic misunderstanding somewhere. What do _you_ think the problem is?”

“I’m not in control of the situation, to the point where I can’t see my way out.”

Sela laid its hand on top of the knitting, forcing By to look at him. “So, we need to go back to basics.”

“What? Start again? I don’t have the time to do that, Sela.”

“Don’t you? You have more time than you think. Come on, let’s pick this back. If you do it one step at a time that sometimes shows up the assumption, ah, I mean the mistake. Let me see.”

By watched it carefully undo the wreck of a scarf stitch by stitch.

“Here you go. I see what’s happened.” Sela looked up again. “You think I’m going back to Beta.”

By felt his jaw go slack. “What did you just say?”

“I said you’ve been putting the yarn round the needle twice instead of just once.”

“Sela, please don’t joke.” By hid his hands under the table. They were shaking.

“Etienne Vorinnis took me to one side this afternoon. He wanted to warn me about you. He called you a leech.”

He should have expected it. Vorinnis wasn’t going to back off any time soon. “Nice of him. It shows a lack of trust in our employer’s judgement, doesn’t it?”

“Are you a leech, By?”

He could talk to Sela. He’d never met a less judgemental person. He couldn’t tell it the whole truth, of course. He had to stick to his cover story. “Not at the moment. I _was_ , and worse. Do you want a list of all the horrible things I’ve done?”

“I haven’t got all night. I want my dinner.”

His chest hurt for a minute, but he couldn’t help laughing. Sela undid another row of the knitting. There was something restful about watching it concentrate on the task, but he had to find out.

“Are you thinking of staying on Barrayar when the others go home? Vorinnis told me you have a family to go back to.”

“That was a wild assumption on his part. There’s nobody to miss me on Beta.”

“There’s not?” The pain was back, but it was different now. This time it was hope.

“There’s something you won’t like that I need to tell _you_ first, Byerly. You might not want to have anything more to do with me.”

And pigs might fly. He had to be seeing things, but Sela’s hands weren’t that steady any more, either. It was strangely reassuring. He pretended to looked shocked. “I’m all grown up. I can take it.”

“I haven’t always been a publicity agent. I used to have another job, at the Orb.”

He’d never been there, but who hadn’t heard of the _Orb of Unearthly Delights_ and all that it entailed. “Was it legal?”

“Yes. I was an LPST. Lots of herms end up there. I went on to night school and bettered myself. I had to take a huge pay cut to be a publicity agent. I was very successful as an LPST. I got to be a class one, you know.”

“Well, that’s impossible.”

It was Sela’s turn to look shocked, and it wasn’t pretending. “I _was_ successful!”

“I meant the better yourself bit. I love you just the way you are. You’re surely not expecting me to judge you?”

“You what?”

By reached over to take the knitting out of Sela’s slack grasp. “I love you. If you can put up with me I can most certainly put up with you. Will you stay?”

“I’ll have to leech off you until I can find myself a job.”

“Leech away. You can even live at my place if you promise to behave yourself. I have rules. No wet towels on the bathroom floor.”

He didn’t have a bath. It wasn’t going to be that much of a problem, but he wasn’t going to tell Sela that right now. Mrs Williams hadn’t been impressed with the state of his bathroom that morning. She’d shown _him_ where the mop lived after breakfast, when the mess had all been Sela’s fault. He might have to accidentally souvenir one of those towels. He’d mop _all_ the bathrooms on the whole floor before he left. Hell, he’d clean the whole hotel if he had to.

He pulled the knitting out and cast on again with a fresh hank. Everything was going to be all right. Everything was going to be just wonderful. Etienne Vorinnis…he couldn’t _kill_ him. That would cause way too much paper work. Vorinnis could just wait. _Oh, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth._

 

By and Sela cut up the floor at dancing practice that night. Sela had been true to its word and produced new neckerchiefs all round, perfectly plain and dazzling white. They did really well at partnering each other. At the end of the night, the _squire_ came over to talk to them.

“We’ve had a word, the lads and I. It hasn’t just been a bit of fun for you, has it? You’ve been reet generous to us and you gentlemen have worked so hard we thought you might like to join us, in the square.”

By didn't think he'd heard right. “What, for the _performance_?” 

“Aye.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

By held his head in his hands. “We don’t have anything to wear, Sela, and we’ll be intruding.”

“But it would be the most tremendous honour! We can’t turn it down.”

The _squire_ nodded. “It’s an honest offer. We mean it. We’ll find you some clothes. I’m pretty sure Mrs Williams still has her husband’s kit. We need all the help we can get to scare the evil ones away, especially this year with the wunnerful season we’ve had.”

Doomed, totally doomed, and Ivan would be watching, too. They had one more night to perfect the moves. By staggered back to the _Black Sheep_ a broken man. Even his last slim hopes were dashed there. Mrs Williams had forgiven him for his sloppy bathroom habits and nipped away to her private quarters. She unearthed an almost complete costume for him, apart from the boots which would never fit.

“He were a lanky lad, my Bert, but you’ll need to fasten the belt tight. We don’t want your nether regions on show in the middle of the square, do we?”

“That we don’t.” The _squire_ had finished his first pint and started on his second by the time Mrs Williams returned with the clothes. His best-behaviour-company-manners, along with his speech, had begun to slip. “If ye ended up with yer kegs roond yer ankles there’d be more fuss than when t’laundry maid gorrer tits stuck in t‘mangle.”

By glared at Sela, daring it to say a word. Mrs Williams swelled up like a gamecock. “That’s enough out of you, Sam Burton! You march on home to that wife of yours before I get my lad to throw you out. The neck of it, to be talking like that in my best saloon. You save your vulgarity for the front bar! And the rest of you have beds to go to, too!”

Burton good naturedly drained his pint and turned to go, ushering the others out in front of him. “Aye, there’s still t’milking. My lad will bring some clobber round for t’other gennleman in t'morning.”

Mrs Williams gave Sela and By a very hard look once Burton was gone.

By squirmed. “Only women are banned, ma’am. We made sure of that.”

“Aye, well.” She paused, looking at the two of them with her hands on her hips. A slow smile spread across her face. “I reckon it would be worse than the laundrymaid if _you_ lost your kegs, Sela Thorne. See that you don’t.”

“No ma’am. Absolutely not. Thank you,ma’am.”

They shot off up the stairs like the hounds of hell were after them. Sela stuffed its fist into its mouth until By fumbled the door open. The herm rushed over to the bed and howled into the pillow.

“Let me lock it, first, you lunatic!” By staggered over to collapse beside it. He laughed until he wheezed and his eyes watered. He laughed until Sela shut him up at last.

His report to Ivan the next day was a tad awkward. He started off with all the positive things again. He rushed into his request when Ivan’s eyes started to glaze over. “Sela’s looking to extend its stay after the others go back. I told it I’d ask you about it.”

“You’d like it to stay longer?”

By took a deep breath. “Ivan, I’d like Sela to stay for ever. At my place.”

There was a stunned silence for a moment. Ivan tried and failed to look neutral. He was hopeless at it. “You don’t want to go rushing into these things, By. I’d hate to see it end in tears.”

“If Sela does end up going back to Beta I’m sure I’ll get over it.” He was lying through his teeth. He didn’t want to sound totally desperate straight away. “I’ve lived through worse, after all. You do need a Betan liaison officer on this end of things, though. It would be ideal. It could design all the package tours and—”

“We’ll talk about it over lunch, when we get there.”

They obviously weren’t on Ivan’s list of priorities. Still, he’d planted the seed. If Sela didn’t have to resign, so much the better. Time would tell, and wasn’t that the most glorious thought? Time. He had all the time in the world now.

 

 


	19. Nobody warned By about Brewer's droop...

 

 

The day dawned crisp and clear. It was going to be a beautiful autumn morning, perfect for the harvest festival. By watched the light filter into the room where he lay with Sela dozing in his arms. The _Black Sheep_ slowly came awake around him, its ancient floorboards creaking as people started moving about their business. There was the sound of windows opening, and the increasing clamour from the market day slowly springing to life in the square. He could smell bread fresh from the oven and the welcome scent of coffee. They could sleep in tomorrow. Today they were going to be busy.

“Up and at ’em, sunshine.” There were people working all around him. It seemed wrong not to help. He’d stay well out of Etienne Vorinnis’s way, but Mrs Williams was going to be run off her feet. There had to be things he could do for her. He bundled a protesting Sela into the shower and made the bed while he waited for it to finish. It took a noble act of self-denial not to join it, but there was a time and a place and this was not it.

Once through the shower himself he cleaned the bathroom, tidied their little sitting area and fluffed out the sheepskin rug. They only had one more night at the Black Sheep and for some strange reason they hadn’t tried the rug out yet. _That would have to change._

He looked around when he was done. It was one less room the chambermaids would have to cope with, at least. “I don’t know about this scarf, Sela,” he said, picking up the offending knitting. “It looks a lot more like the _ravelled sleeve of care_ to me.”

“I have every faith, Byerly, but we are helping with the crowns this morning, remember?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. By set the despised knitting back down again. “I need to find some pink rosebuds somewhere, too.”

“Rosebuds? Do they still grow in the autumn?”

“Hopefully. Any pink flowers will do, really. It’s the pink that matters, and the pinker the better.”

“Mrs Williams will know, or we can just pinch some from our hats if we have to.”

By groaned. “ _Don’t_ remind me. Are you really sure you want to go through with it, Sela?”

The herm did a great imitation of Burton’s accent. “Mind ye keep yer kegs up!” It’s face was full of mischief. “Of course we’re going to go through with it. There’s no backing out now.”

After breakfast they spent the early morning helping with the hundreds of crowns needed for the children. There was a choice of oak leaves woven into withies from the osiers that lined the local river, or full stalks of corn to be plaited into circlets. By slipped out for a few minutes and bought a bunch of roses from one of the market stalls.

“For your young lady, are they sir?” The stallholder asked, taking what was no doubt double the usual price from him.

“For a very young lady, yes.”

There was no more time for chit chat with the press of the crowds behind him all wanting to be served. By escaped back to the relative calm of the hotel’s dining room and slid back into his place at the table. He chose wheat stalks for his creation and very soon had the prettiest crown ready for the prettiest girl he knew. They kept working until about thirty minutes before the count’s shuttle was due to land, when a squad of ImpSec troopers marched in to scan the premises. Everything was whisked away and the tables re-laid for lunch. Mrs Williams wiped her face with her apron before changing it for her best white starched one.

“Thank you so much for your help. It’s always been traditional to make the crowns here in the _Black Sheep_ but with Count Voralys coming I didn’t know how we’d get finished. It’s a good job we started yesterday. It’s quite an effort.”

By saw Major Karasavas stride into the reception area. “You’d better go talk to ImpSec. I’ll round up Mademoiselle Vorfolse’s guests and take them over. We’ll see you at lunch time.”

They were scanned going out and no doubt would be scanned coming back in again. There was probably some ImpSec goon pawing through his wardrobe right this minute. By didn’t think Sela would like to know about that. There was no point worrying it when there was nothing they could actually do, anyway.

The market was in full swing. The noise hit them all like a hammer, with cattle lowing and sheep and goats bleating their protests, hawkers calling out their wares, the sound of thousands of human and animal feet on the cobbles and the hubbub of shrill children with harassed parents. The smells fascinated them as they walked, of sweet fresh fruits, vegetables, and flowers, the sheep and cattle sharp and pungent in their corner of the square, and the delicious scents of all sorts of roasts meats, breads and cakes. Most of all the colours of the spectacle were stunning. The dark blue and silver of Voralys district dominated, with the pennons and bunting all brand spanking new and pristine, but every other colour under the sun fluttered and danced in the breeze. Children had been lining up all morning to receive their crowns and wore them proudly, matching their mothers in their ribboned headdresses and bonnets and fathers in the local bowler hats.

By had been happy until he remembered the hats. Their costumes had all been laid out smartly in the Agricultural hall the night before. Sam Burton had promised to make sure theirs were decorated correctly. It didn’t bear thinking about. They reached the rendezvous point at last with minutes to spare. Etienne Vorinnis, complete with his cape and two swords, was waiting for them. He was happy to smile and pose for photographs with the Betans, including Sela, and with the Earthers who were still stand-offish. That was one of By’s few failures for the trip. The Earthers were snobs.

“Good morning, Vorrutyer.” It was Lieutenant Vorberg. By shook hands. The lieutenant looked nervous, his gaze constantly shifting round the crowd and up to the rooftops. It was only then By noticed the strategically-placed guards on various vantage points.

“Leaving nothing to chance, I see,” By said.

“No, sir. The major would have my hide if I left anything to chance.” He meant Karasavas, of course, although Vorinnis would probably have plenty to say if he saw any gaps in security. By hoped his shoulder blades itched. He hoped his crotch itched, as well. Right where he couldn’t scratch in public.

Vorberg saw the crown he was holding. “Is that for Miss Marie?” he asked. “She’s going to love that. I’ll just check it, if you don’t mind.” _Only on Barrayar_. “Oh—” he stopped to listen to his earbud. “Here they come.”

The shuttle settled into the cordoned-off area set aside for it and the town band started up a brisk, patriotic march, as if there wasn’t enough noise already. The ramp opened and Ivan, with Raine on his arm, stepped out. She still looked pale and listless, By noticed immediately. Ivan was right to worry about her. There was a cheer from the surrounding crowd as their Count appeared. He turned to help his mother down. By saw Simon Illyan, and holding his hand, Marie. He couldn’t hear her over the band, but she shook Illyan’s arm and pointed over to where By stood waiting. He saw the swift glance of assessment, and then the nod of permission. Marie ran over at full tilt. Hastily By passed the crown to Vorberg. He should have been prepared for this. Marie launched herself into his arms and he swung her up into a hug.

“Uncle By! Uncle By! This is ’ _triffic_!”

If looks could kill, Vorberg would be calling the meat wagon. By met Etienne Vorinnis’s glare with one of his own as he lowered the little girl back down. “Hello, Marie! I’ve got a present for you. Here you are. Do you like it?”

Vorberg passed him back the crown. Marie’s face was a picture. “Is that for me? It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

“I made it for you, honey. All the boys and girls are wearing one. It’s traditional.”

Marie darted off again, but only to grab at Ivan’s arm. “My Ivan, look what I’ve got! Uncle By made it for me. It’s tradishnal.”

“That’s very pretty, Marie, but you interrupted Major Vorinnis here. You say sorry, then you can show Mamie and Papi Simon.”

“Sorry.” She was gone again. Ivan’s armsman Sarmiento seemed to have drawn the short straw as he tried to keep up with her mercurial progress.

“Hello, By.” Ivan had his hand held out. By shook it, but they were both watching the little imp. “Thanks for the crown. She loves it.”

“They’ve all got one. I put the roses in hers so you can spot her in the crowd when she gets lost.”

“I notice you didn’t say _if_.” Ivan’s tone was resigned. “That’s a brilliant idea. I really appreciate the thought. I’ll see you at lunch, I hope, By. I’ve got to do the pretty just now.”

“Yes, off you go, my lord count. You know where to find me.” By waited to shake hands with Simon Illyan and bow to Raine and Lady Alys, then fell in with the visitors at the end of the retinue. Their way was cleared by the marching band at the head of the parade. It was all very Barrayaran. Sela would be loving this.

They were scanned and ticked off the list again before they were allowed into the _Black Sheep_. It was more than time for a decent drink, but they all lined up at their places like good little boys and girls while Ivan welcomed them all again and proposed a toast to the Emperor. Major Vorinnis in return proposed a toast to the Count, and then Raine, Lady Alys, Simon Illyan and even Marie. She giggled when he held his glass up to her.

“Crawler,” Sela whispered into By’s ear as they finally settled down to eat. “I notice he didn’t propose a toast to you.”

“He’d choke before he’d do that,” By said, “but he should have mentioned you visitors.”

“He’s been crawling all week to us. Look in the dictionary under sycophant and you’ll find his picture. Shall I claw his eyes out for you?”

It sounded quite venomous. By shook his head. “No, don’t do that, Sela. Look at those eyes of his, and look at his wife.” Madame Vorinnis should have been enjoying the lunch. She wasn’t. Her face was pale and strained, a bit like Raine’s actually. She was worried to death about her husband.

“ _Ah._ If an ex-LPST can’t spot an ex-ADC with PTSD it’s NFG, isn’t it? The major needs TLC, a tranq and a good lie down. These crowds are spooking him, aren’t they? I won’t yank his chain.” Sela’s gaze lingered. “Not yet, anyway. He’s not allowed to hurt you, though.”

This novel feeling of having someone to stand up for him was doing wonders for his ego, but By started to worry that something might happen, something shocking. He might not like the man but he didn’t want him going to pieces again. He tried to catch the eye of one of the ImpSec minders, but he obviously wasn’t perceived as any sort of threat. No one was paying any attention to him. No one, that was, apart from the person who knew him best. Lady Alys picked up on his agitation and raised an eyebrow in enquiry. By brushed _his_ right eyebrow twice. She took a slow look around the room and leaned in a little to talk to Ivan.

He _really_ was going to have to work on that poker face, although most people wouldn’t have noticed. Fox stepped forward to receive a murmured command and left the room. For a moment it looked as if nothing was going to happen, but Fox soon came back with a folded flimsy. He made a good job of looking like he didn’t have a care in the world, but he made sure he was very visible and audible as he approached the major to hand him the note. He glanced through it and stood up. He clutched at the note like a drowning man clutched a life preserver.

“Would you all excuse, me, please? Something’s come up. There’s a small snag with the transport. Please don’t wait for me.”

“How did you _do_ that?” Sela hissed. “You didn’t tell me you were a magician.”

“Do what? It was a complete coincidence.”

“And I’m the Queen of Sheba. How do you like the chicken?”

 

They didn’t see Vorinnis again. By and Sela slipped out at the end of the meal to head for the Agricultural Hall. Sela locked itself in a bathroom stall, only coming back out fully dressed. Its hat was hard to see for the flowers covering it.

“Alright, men.” The _squire_ patrolled up and down, checking for any minor discrepancies. By had never stood for a military parade except for a few exquisitely agonising occasions at one of his several schools. It must be just like this.

“Fix that baldrick, Lem. The Count is here today to see what Rotherhall men can do. Concentrate. Do not let me or your town down. More importantly we need to ensure a safe harvest next year. We’ve been blessed—.” He paused for a moment, choking on his emotion. “We’ve been _blessed_ with our new Count. He’s brought employment for t’bairns, food to eat and fair pay for our work. We’ve got a decent man back in the District at last. It’s time to say thank’ee.”

The nerves were fluttering as they strode out, lining up as silently as they could in the alley leading to the square. By took a deep breath and looked at Sela. “The things I do for love.”

Sela poked out its delicious pink tongue. “For, joy, Byerly, for _joy_.” It spoke over the noise of the bells as the music started and they saw the fool give the signal to march out. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The roar was deafening. Sam Burton was right. They had to concentrate. By forgot all about embarrassment, and who was watching. Let them laugh. He couldn’t let the others down. It was unthinkable. He ran through the steps exactly the way they’d done at the dress practise the night before, stamping and hopping to jangle the bells and swishing the scarves exactly to the time. He couldn’t attract more attention to himself if he’d turned up stark bollock naked to the Emperor’s birthday ball, and he loved every minute. He never took his eyes off Sela, his mirror image. Bright, alive and full of joy, Sela looked about to burst with delight. Did he look the same? _So this was what being part of a team was like._ The final circle, swishing the evil spirits they’d gathered back up to the sky where they’d come from, ended with a tremendous leap and crash.

A heavy arm thumped across his shoulder from the left, and another from the right. They all ended up in an enormous group hug. All By could think of was that Sela had better not get groped before he got to it.

“Beer!”

Trays of foaming tankards appeared and the group hug melted away. That was obviously enough male bonding for the year. The first tankard didn’t even touch the sides as it poured down his throat. It was only as he was wiping his mouth on the back of his hand that he caught sight of Ivan and Raine. Ivan was up on his feet clapping and cheering. Raine was scarlet with laughter. What a change to the pale creature who had accompanied Ivan out of the shuttle.

Lady Alys blew him a kiss. He waved his kerchief back at them all, but couldn’t see Marie in the crush. He didn’t need to worry as Sarmiento would be looking after her. Someone thrust another tankard into his hand and his attention was drawn back to his companions. There was dancing going on behind them but the farmers had far more serious matters to attend to. The competitive drinking was about to begin.

He didn’t get back to talk to Ivan again before the count left to allow the locals to let their hair down. That was about two hours too late. The only thing he hadn’t let down was his kegs. Neither, thank everything that was holy, had Sela. He couldn’t breathe hops and worse all over Lady Alys and Marie anyway. He’d see them tomorrow afternoon, back in Vorbarr Sultana, if he ever managed to haul his sorry arse onto the shuttle. He was barely capable of movement.

That sheepskin was going to go to waste after all. Beer. It was nasty stuff. He let out a loud burp and peered with difficulty at his companions. _It provokes and unprovokes. It provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance_.

 

 


	20. Oh what a tangled web...

 

 

By saw a very familiar face looking back at himself in the mirror that morning, with pain furrowing its way down between his eyebrows and bloodshot, half-closed eyes only just managing to connect with the world. It would have been so much easier just to crawl back between the sheets again, but he had a job to do.

He must have caught Ivan germs somewhere along the line, he decided, ticking through his list of what was accomplished and what still needed to be done. All he needed to do was organise a flow chart to make his transformation complete. _His_ lists always started with coffee, though. After he could get both eyes open at the same time he called Etienne Vorinnis. He reached Katja instead.

“Please don’t disturb Etienne, madame. I just wanted to thank him for all his help and tell him there’s no need to come to the shuttle to see us off. Nobody here seems to be in a state to appreciate the gesture. Hangover remorse is the prevailing condition right now.”

“Thank you, Vorrutyer, I’ll pass the message on, but of course he’ll do what he thinks Ivan would want.”

“Of course. Goodbye, madame.” If only she _knew_ , but By left it at that. He’d tried. His conscience was therefore clear of anything Etienne Vorinnis may choose to inflict upon himself. He made a much more genuine effort to thank Mrs Williams. The kind-hearted landlady had been really good to them, putting up with Betan shenanigans and picky Earthers both. The whole town was suffering from post-festival lassitude, but he did manage to find a huge box of chocolates and a bunch of flowers for her.

It looked like she was sorry to see them go, but she was philosophical about it. “You just get me some more tourists to fill these beds, and I’ll be happy, sir. At least we’ll be turning a profit for the count. Too bad his lady is paying for it this time.”

“It’s been a very wise investment, Mrs Williams. Once everyone has finished drying out they’re going to be all fired up about sending tourists to Barrayar, and Rotherhall in particular. They’ve been made so welcome.”

“Aye. ‘Appen we’ll get some trade out of it.”

“I’m sure you will. Goodbye.”

There wasn’t much talking on the shuttle back to Vorbarr Sultana. They’d left at midday, 1300 hours, and By suspected Gwen and Peter at least, and probably more of them, hadn’t crawled out of bed until 1230.

Sela still hadn’t said a word. Its pale skin had taken on a translucent quality with fine blue veins brought into prominence on its temples, matching the ghastly circles under its eyes. It sat, head back and eyes closed, suffering in silence. Sela wasn’t cut out to drink Barrayaran beer by the bucketful. Painkillers only seemed to have a minimal impact. By dared to reach over and take one of its hands, but the herm pulled away in irritation. Ooh… _cranky_. It wasn’t all sweetness and light. By suppressed his smile. It took too much effort, anyway.

They unloaded the people mover back at the serviced apartments for the last two nights. Sela left its bags unpacked and lay on the bed.

“I’ll pick you up for dinner, shall I?” By asked, but his only answer was a faint groan. He found a glass of water and two more painkillers and left them on the bedside table. “Don’t forget to drink.”

They were scheduled to tour hotels the next day to work out package deals. By had a word to each of the others, checking for any last requirements, and slotted in a walk down the main shopping street. Obviously they hadn’t all managed to buy quite enough souvenirs yet. They were leaving on the _Princess Sonia_ , a smart move on someone’s part as there would be none of the lingering bad memories that either the _Olivia_ or the _Laisa_ would be bound to invoke _._ By needed to see Philip Nicolaides and cancel Sela’s ticket. There was no time like the present while his charges were all resting. He should just call round to Voralys House now, and then he could go home and collapse himself. He called ahead to fix a time.

Nicolaides looked at him in wry amusement. “A stay in the country is supposed to do you good.”

“Oh, it did, right up until the last twenty-six hours. Don’t worry about me. I’m used to it.”

“Who said I was worried? I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Nicolaides cut the com.

Ah, yes. Vorbarr Sultana. Full of philanthropists and bonhomie. By was home. He sat in Sela’s lounge and drank another litre of water with his painkillers.

Armsman Harper let him in the front door and took him up to the business office where Nicolaides sat ensconced behind his desk. He sat back and steepled his fingers together as By came in. “Just the person I wanted to see,” he said. “About this expense claim.”

Oh yes, he was home all right. By laid the receipt for the chocolates and flowers on the table. “Good. I need to add to it.” _Let battle commence._

By ticked the last of the items off his list. Nicolaides was a hard nut. He’d gone over the claim in microscopic detail. He’d had to concede on the bunch of pink roses and his half of the bill for the neckerchiefs. Ivan hadn’t asked him to do either of those things, and he _had_ told Marie the crown was a present from him, he had to admit. He got hit with the cancellation charge for Sela’s ticket, too. That one he didn’t complain about.

“OK, I think we’re done.” Nicolaides stood up from his chair. “I’ll take you downstairs. Count Voralys wants to see you before you go. I think Lady Alys wishes to talk to you, too.”

“You’re too kind.”

By felt a rush of pride as he was let into the library. It still looked good, and Ivan hadn’t changed anything substantial, although he had to tamp down the itch to plump up a few of the cushions. Ivan and Raine, Lady Alys and Simon Illyan and Admiral and Madame Waleska were all gathered around the fireplace. There was an actual fire there now, rather than the hydrangeas he’d styled it with before. Marie still had her crown on. She gave him a delighted smile but glanced warily at her Mamie. What trouble had she got herself into this time? By tipped her crown over her eyes on the way past.

“Hey, pumpkin, Cat got your tongue?”

“Uncle By!” Marie laughed and straightened up the crown. “I can say hello now you’ve spoken to me. I didn’t know you could dance.”

Aha. The old _don’t speak until you’re spoken to lecture._ He’d probably shut up if Lady Alys told him to, as well.

Ivan stood up to shake his hand. “I don’t think any of us knew Uncle By could dance, Marie. He’s a bit of a dark horse, isn’t he?” There was a look of unholy glee in his eyes.

Raine leaned over to give him a hug. “By, that’s one of the precious moments in life I’m going to take to the grave with me. I _loved_ your dancing. You were good!”

“I _did_ tell you I’d think of something,” By said to Ivan. “I hope it came up to specs.”

“Oh, it did. What I really need to thank you for as well, By, is at lunch yesterday. Mamère tells me you were the one who tipped her off about Etienne. He’s still got a way to go yet. It was all a bit much for him.”

“Yes, I could see that. I’m afraid I was the cause of some of his stress because he doesn’t like or trust me. He thinks I’m conning you. He won’t thank me for interfering, so there’s no need to mention it to him. It can stay between us, can’t it?”

“As you like.”

Lady Alys gave him one of her cool smiles. “You’re going to be very busy with your cousin’s wedding soon, aren’t you? It’s not long after the Birthday Ball.”

“Yes, that’s right, just a few weeks later. Besides that, my services are in hot demand. I have another commission from the Vorbrettens, one from Lord Vorkalnins and Lady Mary Vorville wishes me to call on her.”

“Lady Mary is always at the forefront. Please her and you’ll be well set. While you’re going to be so busy I’ve arranged for your herm friend to stay on at the appartments for another month.”

“What?” That was a non-sequitur if ever he’d heard one. “Sela is going to be staying with me.”

“I think not. There’s a little matter of a security clearance to be arranged first.” Her eyes grew quite cold. She must have caught that from Simon Illyan. “It might be more difficult than you think, Byerly. What do you know of its past?”

By could feel himself tensing up. “I know enough.”

“You only know what it’s told you. It’s more than a publicity agent.”

“I’m well aware.” He felt his hackles start to rise.

She heard the tone in his voice. “No sense in coming to blows. If all is as you say, a permanent visa can be granted, but there will need to be an interview first.”

 _ImpSec_. ImpSec were going to fast-penta Sela. What did they suspect him of?

Simon Illyan shifted in his seat. “If it works for Ivan here in Vorbarr Sultana it’s going to have to have a clearance anyway, no matter what your relationship. Surely you’d thought of that?”

No, he hadn’t, he realised. He’d been carried away by rainbows and happy endings.

Raine spoke up. “Don’t look so bleak, By. I know Sela. You’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ll be wonderful together. You’ll see.”

He didn’t want to stay for tea, or pleasant social chit-chat. He’d done his job, after all. He stood up to go. “You’re going to drive it away, between you, with your paranoia. I won’t let you. I’d rather resign and go back to Vorrutyer’s District with it.”

“Make an appointment with my office, Byerly.” Lady Alys spoke as if she hadn’t heard him. “We need to discuss the birthday ball. I do believe Laisa wants a Vorbarra District theme.”

He hardly heard her. They thought Sela was a _spy._ It took him a while to remember that Sela knew what a blind drop was.

 

It was later that evening before he found the courage to go back to the apartments. Most people had made their own arrangements, heading for a party at the Betan Embassy and Sela was the only one left behind. It had some colour back and was actually moving. By sat beside it on the couch and reached for its hand, too choked to speak.

“It’s not the knitting this time, is it? Out with it, Byerly. You look like someone walked over your grave.”

By kissed its knuckles and held the hand to his chest, cradling it over his heart. “Sela, ImpSec wants to interview you. They’re going to make you tell them you’re a spy.”

There was a deep silence that stretched out. Finally, Sela spoke. “Do _you_ think I’m a spy, Byerly?”

He stared at the wall in front of him. He had to be honest. “You could be.”

“Hypothetically, what if I said Sela Thorne isn’t my real name?”

“ _What?”_ By’s stomach plummeted. _Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell me._ His brain screamed at him. What he didn’t know he couldn’t report.

“In this scenario, Sela’s real, but Thorne came from some security report.”

There was a swirling, murky mire of a minefield waiting for him here. He shouldn’t take another step, but he knew he had to. “Whose security report?”

“ImpSec’s, about some mercenaries.”

“ _ImpSec?_ ” He let go of Sela to clutch his head in his hands. Sela went on before he could say anything more. “That’s probably what’s spooking them. They’ve discovered I have a false name. I worked it all out yesterday, you know.”

If his head hadn’t already been aching, it was now. It was _splitting_. “Worked what out?”

“You’re _hypothetically_ a dirty angel. _You’re_ not the man Etienne Vorinnis warned me about. He was full of stories about you, actually, each one worse than the last. It had to be a cover.”

He couldn’t bring himself to say a word. Sela didn’t wait for him to deny it.

“Then, at lunch, that move was so slick. You’ve been working with your blind drop for years, haven’t you?”

He thought Sela had let it go too easily. He was right. It hadn’t let it go at all.

“This isn’t supposed to be about me.”

“What can I say? It takes one to know one. I didn’t tell you the whole truth. I was always a bit of a free spirit, well, rebel…anti-establishment, I suppose you could say. _I_ never voted for Steady Freddy. Most herms never really get ahead, you know. I saw it as a way to make a bit extra on the side.”

This was going from bad to worse. Perhaps they could scrape the money together somehow. He could sell his apartment and pay for passages to Earth. They could start again there, or even Escobar if he could swing a visa. Barrayarans still weren’t too welcome on Escobar. “Saw what, Sela? What did you do?”

“It would have got me struck off if anyone ever found out. I reported to the Embassy whenever I ran across a Barrayaran officer with a tendency to be…indiscreet.”

“The Embassy? Which Embassy?” He swivelled in his seat to stare Sela in the face. “You don’t mean the _Barrayaran_ Embassy, do you?” He couldn’t really catch his breath, torn between terror and hysterical laughter. “Sela, are you telling me you were a spy _for_ ImpSec? On _our_ side?”

“I’m not telling you anything. This is a purely hypothetical situation, remember. It all got a bit sticky with a certain commodore. His father was…er…might have been a count. He was keen to dispose of me and keep his cushy job as liaison officer. Hence the retirement from that job and the new identity. Thorne’s a very common name for herms and I never used Sela in my job at the Orb.”

Relief made him so giddy he had to lean down and put his head between his knees.

“You shoulders are shaking, Byerly.”

He sat up straight again. “You have no idea what I’ve been thinking, for _hours_! I can see what’s happened. All of this was more than ten years ago, wasn’t it?”

“Ten standard? Yes.”

“So, a civilian contract employee out of the Beta desk, that would be Galactic Affairs, is written off the books and disappears ten years ago. _Domestic_ affairs thinks they’ve found a dodgy Betan trying to wile his way into the life of a…prominent Vor here on planet. They’ll put two and two together eventually, I hope. If it comes to pulling your fingernails out we’d better tell them, but not before. _You_ have scored a month’s free accommodation in this apartment. You can make the most of it.”

“But I thought I was going to be with you, Byerly. Don’t you want me now?”

“So insecure.” By cupped Sela’s cheek and leaned in to kiss its soft mouth. “It’s my turn to make a confession. I don’t have a bath, only a shower, and a tiny one at that. There’s a spa here, and a swimming pool downstairs.”

The herm’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “We should make good use of it.”

“We should indeed.” By leaned in for another kiss. “We may as well start now.”

 

He sat in Lady Alys’s office two days later with some preliminary ideas for decorations. As they spoke Sela was co-operating with ImpSec. Things might be unpleasant for it for a while, but it would be nothing as bad as the lurid scenarios his imagination had first conjured up. The herm would probably end up running rings round them all.

He’d had a novel idea in the middle of the night and was interested to see if Lady Alys would fly with it, or more importantly, whether or not the Empress would like it. He discussed potted olive trees and roses for over an hour, until they had a coherent plan to put before the Empress. Finally she called for coffee and sat back.

“We should take a break. You’ve been remarkably calm this morning, Byerly. I thought you would have been more agitated. I admire your self-control.”

“Oh, finding out there’s a spy on the loose can be a shock to the system, but I trust Sela. It’s going to surprise you. I need to tell you it’s guessed I’m an agent. I didn’t confirm or deny anything, of course.”

“Let’s hope not, but I’ve learned to leave such things to wiser heads. It’s our job simply to provide the information and see the Imperial Court runs smoothly.”

He did feel a little twinge of conscience, but he ruthlessly suppressed it. “I’m sure Sela will be home for dinner.” He sipped his coffee. “When do you suppose the Empress will be able to see us?”

Lady Alys flipped open her data filer. “I tentatively scheduled us in for 1500 hours. Why don’t you run along and have some lunch and meet me at her office at 1450? I’ll have the necessary clearance sent through. At least _you’re_ not a suspect at the moment.”

“We should be grateful for small mercies. I’ll see you this afternoon, my lady.”

 

 

 


	21. A Flower of the Vor.

 

 

By stood on the carpet, in front of the desk, like any naughty schoolboy. He’d graced the occasion with his best brillberry magenta suit and had to bite hard on the inside of his lip to keep the smile off his face. Lady Alys was _not_ amused.

“You knew,” she said with quiet menace. “You let me assume the worst.”

“My lady, when I talked to you at Voralys House, your exact words to me were _You only know what it’s told you. It’s more than a publicity agent._ I only knew from Sela itself that it had worked for ImpSec. You wouldn’t accept its word the first time so I saw no reason to repeat myself trying to convince you.” He indicated the folder lying on the desk in front of her. “Now that you’ve seen the report, I don’t have to try.”

She gazed at him for a few more seconds. “Perhaps your point of view does have some merit.”

That was the closest to an apology he was going to get. He’d take it.

“So,” Lady Alys went on, “The Emperor was rather amused by the story. He was less amused by the rivalry between Domestic and Galactic affairs as it’s counterproductive, as he kindly pointed out to General Allegre. He wants to meet your herm.” She extracted an envelope from the drawer in her desk. “The honourable Sela Thorne is invited to attend the Emperor’s Birthday Ball. It is requested, at this stage, that its choice of attire for the evening be fitting for you as a partner, but if that is culturally insensitive it’s by no means a Request and Require. Just—” her gaze lingered on his outfit for a few seconds more, “—please don’t take it to _your_ tailor.”

Ooh, snarky.

“Estelle’s then?”

That made her look at _him_ , not his clothes. “I think not.”

By burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it. “Oh, the picture I have in my mind’s eye!”

“Sit _down_ , Byerly. I’ve had quite enough of your levity this morning. Have you sourced the olive trees, yet?”

He was forgiven, he had another commission from the Emperor, and Sela got to go to the ball. Life was good. There was just one point he should mention, to save embarrassment.

“I presume the Emperor knows what Sela’s former employment was? That doesn’t cause him any qualms about receiving it?”

“The Emperor knows everything. He's got no qualms about receiving _you_ , after all. There’s no need to broadcast it, of course, but he believes you to be a good judge of character. Of course you’ll brief Sela fully about protocol, and it will be your responsibility on the night.”

“Most assuredly. It’ll make a stunning cinderella.”

“I have more trouble picturing _you_ as the fairy godmother, Byerly. Work, please. What else do we need to finalise?”

Suitably quashed, By concentrated on the matter at hand. “The colour of the tubs? Black is dynamic and dramatic, but for a birthday? What do you suggest?”

They settled on silver. It had been obvious from the start, but there was no harm in giving Lady Alys the illusion of the final say.

 

Now that Sela had its clearance, By could take it into the office with him. He had a mountain of work to get through, especially with his time away, and all the nitty-gritty of setting up the office properly still had to be done. Sela was brilliantly efficient as a secretary. It had a keen mind for detail and impeccable taste. By arranged an appointment with Ekaterin to introduce it and see what she thought about it taking on the role permanently. It would all work out really well if she was happy. _As long as the malignant dwarf doesn’t scupper the idea_. Silent partners should be just that, but it was asking a little too much of the little Lord Auditor. Perhaps he’d be so busy they could sneak it past him unnoticed.

With the ball looming up they solved the problem of an outfit by visiting a theatrical costume supplier who was used to all shapes and sizes of customer and didn’t blink an eye at Sela’s unique attributes. In fact, like By himself, the fitter was totally fascinated with Sela's charms, so much so that the little green monster raised its head and By felt the pangs of jealousy. Sela, he realised sadly, was a _flirt_. The blue gown they settled on matched the colour of Sela’s eyes perfectly. The loops of lace on the dropped sleeves disguised its musculature and the décolletage was becoming without being provoking. Sela wanted it lower. By objected. After one or two acrimonious comments the fitter discreetly left them to sort it out.

“You’re no _fun_ , Byerly,” Sela complained. “Where’s the joy in looking like a prude?”

“This is Barrayar, Sela, and it’s going to be the Emperor’s Ball, and believe me, you’re not going to look like a _prude_.” He could hardly take his eyes off Sela’s chest. “You have to judge by Barrayaran standards, not Betan ones.”

Sela looked in the mirror and pouted. There was no other word for it. It swished from side to side and did a twirl. “Well, if I can’t show my breasts I want some feathers.”

By coughed. “Where were you thinking of putting the feathers?”

“In my hair.”

“It’s traditional to wear flowers in your hair, on Barrayar.”

Sela glowered at him. “I…want… _feathers_.”

Their first tiff. It was so sweet, if exasperating. By held both of his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Feathers it is. People are going to stare, you realise.”

Sela flipped its wrist at him. “Dahling, people always stare. Get used to it.”

It would make a change not to have people staring at _him._ He didn’t know if he wanted their attention diverted or not. Byerly Vorrutyer was always known for his signature flamboyance, as Master Tsipis had pointed out. He was going to have to think about his own outfit very carefully.

“You can wear this to Dono and Olivia’s wedding, too, but strictly no feathers, and maybe a fichu at the neck. There’s no way we can have you outshining the bride. That would be very vulgar.”

“I’m invited to your cousin’s wedding?” The herm’s thoughts were instantly diverted. “Are you sure, Byerly?”

“I’ve spoken to Dono. He’s pretty broad-minded, as you know. Olivia’s dying to meet you, he says. He also said he’s waiting for the sky to fall in as the Emperor, Miles Vorkosigan, Ivan Vorpatril and I have all found partners in the same year. I thought it was very good-natured of him to include me with the Flower of the Vor.”

Sela’s eyes filled with tears in a sudden, mercurial change of mood. “I think you’re the best of all of them, Byerly.” It dashed its tears away. “Well, maybe not at knitting, but everything else. I’m sorry I was snippy.”

A tap at the door brought them back to their surroundings. “All settled?” The dresser asked.

“I think so. When can you have the alterations finished?”

They concluded business and headed out to have some lunch. The weather was beginning to turn; there’d been sharp frosts three mornings in a row and all the flowers had died. The Great Square was bleak and desolate with fallen leaves swirling round the base of Dorca’s statue and the grape vine at Shoko’s was reduced already to its winter skeleton. They settled instead for a cosy bistro not two doors from the office building.

While they were waiting for their meals to arrive Sela asked him a question. “Will Count Vorguriyev be at the Birthday Ball?”

By froze. What did Sela know about Count Vorguriyev? “He could be. All the counts are supposed to present their tribute to the Emperor at His Birthday Ball.”

“Hmm,” Sela mused, its eyes alive with mischief again. “I wonder if his brother will be there. I hear he’s a rear admiral now, don’t you know?”

 

There was a flickering fire burning in the tiled fireplace of Professora Vorthys’ snug little sitting room. Sela had chosen to wear wide trousers and a tunic, almost Komarran in style but in a dark lavender. Ekaterin’s sunny smile broadened as By introduced it and she clasped both its hands before kissing it on each cheek. She stood back to look at it in delight. “I’m so very pleased to meet you! Ivan and Byerly are two of my dear friends, so you’re doubly welcome. How are you enjoying Barrayar so far?”

“It’s not at all what I was expecting. Everything is so…wide.”

“After living on Komarr for so long I know exactly what you mean, but if you really want to experience wide skies you should visit my home on the Southern Continent. It’s the one thing I still truly miss, living here in Vorbarr Sultana. Have you met my fiancé already, or may I introduce you?” She turned to include Miles, who had risen from his armchair in the corner of the room when they’d come in.

Of course Miles wasn’t going to let his fiancée meet By and Sela alone if he could possibly help it. By just shook his head in amused disbelief at the sight of him. Well, it suited his purposes to have him here, so he’d best not comment. After kissing Ekaterin’s cheek he turned to shake hands. “My Lord Auditor! Such a surprise.”

Miles’ eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You were expecting Ekaterin to be on her own? Why?”

“I presumed you would be Lord Auditing it over some poor hapless soul, of course. There are still some perpetrators at large, are there not?”

Miles ground his teeth. “Unfortunately. I’m awaiting reports from ImpSec at the moment.”

“Ohhh. I see.”

They looked at each other. Sela huffed in a little breath of amusement, and Ekaterin hastily indicated the chairs. “Please, sit down! Tell me about the business, By. Any major problems?”

“So far so good, actually. There are several events on the books and of course we’re gearing up for Winterfair. The association I’m developing with The Residence is going well. The Empress is delighted with my ideas for the birthday ball but I’m fairly sure she’s a minimalist at heart, which may or may not start a trend. We’ll have to wait and see.”

“And Sela? May I call you Sela? By told me you’d been helping him this week.”

The herm smiled. “Byerly has such an artistic temperament he can’t help but succeed, but I have to tell you he couldn’t organise his way out of a monorail station. I was shocked, I tell you. I’ve already rearranged the furniture, too.”

Ekaterin giggled. “Oh, By. You should see your face! Telling tales out of school, Sela?”

“Oh, that would be the one about his bathroom at the _Black Sheep_ , but I promised I wouldn’t mention that.”

Miles Vorkosigan stepped into the breach. He wasn’t nearly as amused as Ekaterin seemed to be. “You think you can combine both your roles while you stay on Barrayar, Thorne? We’re expecting DoubleVee Aesthetica to go on to great things, you know.”

“I’m happy for it to be a temporary position while you develop, and while Count Voralys is developing _his_ business. I can see me taking a back step in two to three years, once all the training programmes have been developed. They’re sorely needed and I can help you with that. I can also help DoubleVee Aesthetica with contacts at the Betan Embassy _and_ I can arrange any publicity or advertising, although I do appreciate that Byerly and Madame Vorsoisson are relying on Lady Alys at the moment. I’m fluent in five languages and can handle any computer programme you care to throw at me, including word processing, drafting and design. In other words, my skill set is exactly what you need, my lord.”

If this was a job interview, Sela had just smashed it. By started to speak, but Sela wasn’t finished. It turned to Ekaterin with the warmest look in its eyes. “I also have nearly twenty years experience as a counsellor in all sorts of familial situations, not just intimate ones. Any time you, or a family member, feels the need to talk about relationships, health, adolescence, grief, loss or anger without blame or denial you can talk to me as a friend. I’m aware you’re joining a family with a very prominent Betan as matriarch. I can possibly give you some pointers in dealing with that.”

By thought it might be time to lighten the mood. “Any experience of Napoleon complex?”

Sela didn’t even glance at him. “Of course, and witzelsucht, also. You may need to look that up, Byerly.”

Ekaterin glanced at Miles. “Do you think you could help Aunt Helen with the tea, Miles? She may be having some difficulty carrying that tray.”

“What? Oh…er…yes, certainly. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’ll help you.” By shot out of the door behind Miles, for perhaps the only time in his life in solidarity with the little man. He had no idea what Ekaterin wanted to say to Sela, and he could think of nothing worse than finding out. He leaned back against the closed door and stared blankly at Vorkosigan. “Witzelsucht?”

“ _Napoleon_ complex?”

“I apologise for that. Sincerely.”

Miles turned around and headed for the kitchen. By took one last glance at the closed door to the sitting room and followed him. Helen Vorthys looked up in surprise as they invaded the kitchen.

“Miles! And Byerly…how nice of you both to come and help. The tea is just about ready. Put the cups and saucers on that tray, would you, and Byerly, you can serve those pastries onto a plate for me. The forks and napkins are right on the dresser. I’ll carry those, and if you’ll be so good as to fetch the teapot we should be all done. Thank you very much.”

She chatted on in a genial, pleasant tone as if it was perfectly normal to order a Lord Auditor around in her kitchen. Come to think of it, it obviously was, just not this one. Byerly headed back to the sitting room with the teapot in his hand, in a state somewhere between stunned amusement and sick anticipation.

He needn’t have worried. Ekaterin and Sela looked like they were getting along like a house on fire. Her whole face brightened even more when Miles walked back in and he hurried over to take her hand.

“Everything OK?”

“Certainly. I’ve just told Sela that it’s more than welcome to accompany Byerly to our wedding. It’ll make the numbers so much more even, don’t you think?”

It was such a shame the Lord Auditor’s house must be scanned daily for hidden cameras and recording devices. No price would have been too high to pay for a picture of Miles’s face right them.

“Apricot tart?” Professora Vorthys handed him a plate and a fork. “Do help yourself.”

 

Later that night, they lay in bed, half asleep and half awake. By finally plucked up the courage to ask. “What did Ekaterin want to say to you, Sela?”

The herm snuggled a little closer. “It was really sweet, actually. Madame Vorsoisson is the sort of person you would much rather have on your side than not. I think she’s been talking to Raine and Ivan. She wanted to know what my intentions were.”

By pulled back in shock. “She _what_?”

“She was very fierce. She doesn’t want to see me break your heart. I asked her if she thought I could, and she was rather decidedly convinced that yes, I could do just that. I managed to reassure her, I think.”

By stroked its face. “You could, you know, if you left me.”

“I have no intention of going anywhere. You know how jump sick I get. It would have to be really, really bad for me to endure that again if I didn’t have to. And unlike you inarticulate Barrayarans, you’ll know exactly how I feel long before we get to anything remotely close to a breakdown in communication like that. ”

“So what did you say to Ekaterin to convince her?”

“I said you were my life’s breath and my heart. I said you were going to let me wear feathers to the Emperor’s ball. Once she realised I didn’t mean feathers and nothing else she thought it was most romantic. I think she believed me.”

“You must have convinced her. You’re on the payroll, starting tomorrow. You can organise your own employee number and Master Tsipis will set you up with all the employee benefits and a bank account. Oh, and a tax file, of course. Your visa should be coming through any tick of the clock.”

"Sela Thorne. Barrayaran. You’ll never get rid of me, then, you know.”

“I’d rather cut my arm off.” By rolled back into a rib-crushing embrace. “My word as Vorrutyer.”

Sela fell asleep at last. Byerly lay in the darkness considering the roller coaster his life had become. The strangest gift of all was Ekaterin Vorsoisson as his champion. For that loyalty he could put up with Miles Vorkosigan and all his manic schemes.

Loyalty. _Master, go on, and I will follow thee to the last._

He started to doze just a little. And what were _his_ masters? It was easy, really, truth and justice in the service of the Emperor.

 It should be fun, dancing with Sela at the Birthday Ball.

 

 


	22. The Birthday Ball

 

 

Byerly tried to sneak into the apartment, walking on tip-toe from the front door to the second bedroom to hide the parcel he carried. He was sure he hadn’t made a sound but Sela heard him anyway.

“Byerly, where have you been? Your dinner’s ready.”

By whipped around and tried to hide the parcel behind his back. Sela walked out of the kitchen, drying its hands on a towel. “You’re late and you didn’t let—ooh, is that a present? I want to see.”

“No, it’s for later. Sela! No!” He tried to hold it up above his head but the herm poked him hard in the solar plexus. By’s breath whooshed out as he doubled over and Sela neatly appropriated the gift. “Ow! What did I ever do to you?”

“Tried to hide my present.”

By staggered over to the chair that stood near the door and collapsed into it to catch his breath. “Have the damned present, then.”

“Is this for me? Byerly, you shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t next time, if this is the way you’re going to treat me. Aren’t you going to open it, now that you’ve got it?”

Sela wandered into the lounge area and sat down to untie the bow, carefully winding up the ribbon before picking at the seals with its fingernail until the sheet came away whole. Underneath was a dark blue presentation box. Sela ran its fingers over the subtle blue gift wrapping and turned the box around and over. It was about sixty centimetres long. “What can it be?”

“Just open the blessed thing, would you? I want my dinner.”

“Well, it can’t be jewellery. It’s huge. What have you bought me, Byerly?”

Exasperated to the point of speechlessness, By just leaned against the door frame and waited. He was _not_ going to play Sela’s little games. Sela made a little moue at him and opened the box. It leapt to its feet. “Oh! Oh, Byerly, it’s _gorgeous_.” It extracted an enormous white feather fan from its case and flicked it open.

“It’s gengineered. No ostriches were harmed in its manufacture.”

Sela rushed over to a mirror and swished the fan backwards and forwards in utter delight. By couldn’t help smiling, even if he did have bruises rapidly developing under his ribs.

“You said you wanted feathers.”

“I did, and you remembered.”

“You’ll be the belle of the ball. Well, bel, I suppose. How about beauelle? Is that even a word?”

“It is now. I can hardly wait.” Suddenly, its eyes narrowed. “You don’t want me to wear feathers in my hair, do you?”

By shook his head. “Guilty as charged. I think it would be a mistake.”

“Very well, I won’t. You know better than I do. Come and have tea.”

It was as easy as that? By didn’t think so. “What are you up to, Sela?”

“Nothing. Would you like some wine? There’s still half a bottle left.”

“I’d like you to tell me what your game is. You're not thinking of something I’ll regret, are you? The ball’s tomorrow night.”

Sela served up two bowls of stroganoff with noodles and sat down opposite By to pour the wine. “Are you worried that you’ll feel ashamed of me?”

“Not at all.” By tried the stroganoff. It was very good for someone who hadn’t cooked it before. “I’m never going to feel ashamed of you, but I _am_ worried I might have to punch someone, if they make an inappropriate remark.”

Sela looked shocked. Its mouth dropped open slightly. “You’d really do that? _Violence_?”

“It’s not really considered violence on Barrayar, unless I use a knuckle-duster or something. Any red-blooded man is expected to defend his…er…partner. No one would turn a hair. I’m Vor, so I could use a sword, just not two swords. There are unwritten rules so don’t try anything yourself _especially_ if the Emperor is there. You never, ever, ever, use a weapon or offer violence in the presence of the Emperor."

“So what would be so bad about feathers in my hair, when obviously a fan is fine?”

By took a bite, and then another, while he marshalled his thoughts. “We don’t have LPSTs here. Prostitution is still illegal, and to call someone a name implying they are a prostitute is a really grave insult and it’s even worse for males. I’d flatten anyone who even hinted you were a whore.”

“You still call people that? And I’m hearing you say there are dual standards?”

By had to nod.

“I see. Do prostitutes wear feathers?”

“Not ones like you would wear, but a red feather boa is often a signal, yes.”

“Oh.” Sela was silent for a few moments, trying to process what By had just told him. It took a mouthful of its wine and still looked doubtful. “But fans are acceptable?”

“They’re almost de rigueur, but they don’t have to be _feather_ ones. I wouldn’t play any tricks on you, Sela. You’ll look stunning.”

Sela sipped some more wine and a dimple peeped out. “Yes, I do believe I will.”

 

By finally worked out why this birthday ball was going to be different to all the others he’d attended. It was the most public ball of the year as anyone, like him, who was the grandchild of a count was allowed to attend. Sela’s invitation was special but he doubted they’d get any more than a glimpse of the Emperor unless someone like Ekaterin made it their business to introduce the herm. It wasn’t any of that. The difference was that he expected to _enjoy_ himself. The floral decorations looked wonderful and the Empress had sent him a personal message to say thankyou. Once Sela passed his very discreet inspection there’d be nothing left to worry about. Lady Alys had even arranged to send her driver back to pick them up. They didn’t have to fight for an autocab and would be dropped at the portico steps, rather than at the security gate. It was going to be all plain sailing.

He heard the bedroom door open and turned to see it walk into the room. By’s heart faltered as he forgot to breathe. He had to remember to take a deep breath, and then another.

“Byerly, look at you! You’re so _handsome_. That has to be a new suit.”

Sela had got in first. By blinked his eyes. The herm looked a bit blurry. “You are beautiful, and handsome, and attractive and you’re my best friend. That dress suits you perfectly and the feathers are exquisite.”

“And you look so _sharp_. Who would ever have thought blue would look so smart on you? The grey stripe is traditional, isn’t it?”

“This is my Vorrutyer House uniform, Sela. It’s as formal as I can get. Shall we go? We can wait in the foyer for Christos, if he’s not there already. I’d rather not keep him waiting.” He held out his arm and they sailed out to knock 'em dead. The ground car pulled up just as they stepped out of the lift tube so they kept on going through the foyer and out in the cool night air. Christos climbed out and opened the canopy for them. “Good evening, your honour, and sir.”

“Good evening, Christos. This is very kind of you. We appreciate it, don’t we, Sela?”

“Most certainly.”

By helped Sela into the car and hopped in after it. It was only a five minute journey to The Residence and they soon joined the long line of ground cars waiting to disgorge their passengers. The first difference for the night was being directed into the VIP lane. Lady Alys’s ground car was almost as distinctive as the one belonging to the Vorkosigan family and their entry was very prompt. There was even a VIP screening point and they were ushered to that as a matter of course.

Sela whispered in his ear. “Did you do these trees? They look wonderful.”

By squeezed its arm. “Yes, they do look special. No one is looking at _them_ , though.”

They finally made their way through security and up to the ballroom. By hadn’t experienced such a tight screen before. ImpSec was _nervous_.

The Emperor was nowhere to be seen but the counts were heading into the anteroom. He must be in there, accepting their gifts and pledges. Lady Alys was holding court as hostess in the meanwhile so By steered Sela over. There was the barest flicker of an eyebrow before she smiled her cool smile at them both. “So this is Sela Thorne. Welcome to Barrayar, honourable herm. I trust Byerly is taking good care of you?”

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I’m sorry to have caused you any discomfort.” It said something else By didn’t quite hear.

Lady Alys let out a trill of laughter. She looked like a young woman for a few seconds. She was only a few years older than Sela, after all. Byerly got the distinct impression it was _flirting_ with her. He should have warned it about Lady Alys, and this was just the first person Sela had met. By’s enjoyment of the evening slipped just a little, but he steered Sela to the buffet and hoped for the best. Who else should he have warned it about?

They were certainly attracting attention, and not all of it was directed at Sela.

“Byerly Vorrutyer, where have you _been_?” By knew that voice. He turned to look at Stasya Vorkalnins.

“Hello Stasya . I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Stasya looked at Sela with undisguised curiosity. “Who’s your new friend? I don’t know her, do I?”

“This is Sela Thorne, from Beta.”

“Oh, right. Betan.” Stasya rudely turned her back and took Byerly by the arm. “Nigel’s here. He escaped from his minder and flew in from Bonsanklar this morning. He’s out on the south lawn with the crew because he doesn’t want his father to see him. Come on out and join us.”

By peeled her fingers off his arm. “I’m with my guest, Stasya, so if you’ll excuse us, no, I won’t be joining you on the south lawn. Perhaps another time.”

She didn’t quite take no for an answer. “Evelina’s out there, too. You remember Evelina, don’t you, By? _She_ remembers you.”

By caught sight of Sela over Stasya’s shoulder. That twinkle in its eye was going to be the death of him. He took Stasya by both of her arms, picked her up and physically moved her to one side. “If you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do.”

“If looks could kill,” Sela murmured as they walked away, “I’d be ordering my blacks right now. Oh, look. There’s Madame Vorsoisson. Can we say hello?”

Ekaterin looked lovely in a pearl grey gown with white roses in her hair. She smiled a greeting.

“Raine was here a second ago. I think Aceline dragged her off to meet an old friend. Ivan and Miles are doing their count thing. I hope they don’t all keep Gregor for too long. The poor dear is so uncomfortable on that camp stool.”

By wouldn’t have called the Emperor a _poor dear,_ exactly, but he could well understand how uncomfortable those camp stools must be. He hadn't given the idea much attention before tonight. Ekaterin turned her attention to Sela.

“You look so lovely. Do you always wear female clothing, or is there a special Betan style herms wear? I’m sure Miles has told me about a herm friend of his from his military days.”

“I wear whatever suits the occasion. It’s nice to have a choice, sometimes.”

“I see you have feathers.”

Sela laughed. “I didn’t quite realise about the feathers. Byerly was very sneaky the way he steered me through the shoals of inappropriateness.”

“Byerly is very caring. Did you know he saved my life?”

It looked like they were going to settle in for a good gossip about him. It was time to interrupt. “I think I see Miles. Well, I can see Ivan, at least, so Miles is surely not far away, just lower. We’ll leave you two lovebirds to your own devices. Come on, Sela, the bar calls. We can’t pass up on free wine, especially when it’s the good stuff.”

There was a stir in the room at last and everyone stood as the Emperor entered with his Empress on his arm. The orchestra, which had been playing gentle conversation music, struck up for the first dance and he led his lady onto the floor. After the first turn the senior counts joined in, and finally By judged it safe for the riff raff to enjoy themselves. He swept Sela into his arms and started to circle with the rest of them.

“It’s not like Rotherhall,” Sela said after a few energetic prances up and down. “What do you call this dance?”

“I think it’s a polka, Barrayaran style. We’ll have some mirror dances, and a waltz or mazurka or two. You’ll have to watch Ivan in the mazurkas. He’s such a show off.”

“And of course you’re not?”

He could feel a laugh bubbling up. “ _Never_.”

Ivan led Raine out into a mazurka generale and Sela poked By in the ribs with the handle of its fan. It was very fond of poking, he was beginning to discover.

“Something’s up. Look at him!”

“Look at what?”

“The body language, of course. That’s one uptight individual.”

It had been By’s first instinct to look around for the danger. He relaxed “Oh, it’s his first Birthday Ball as count. He’s bound to be nervous. Come on, or we’ll miss the set.”

“You can give Ivan a good run for his money, clicking your heels like that, can’t you?” Sela said two minutes later.

“I’m Vor. It’s obligatory.” By was having fun. He was totally enjoying himself, in fact. It was a wonderful evening. When the music finished at last he knelt on one knee with the rest of the men and looked up at Sela.

“You make everything so full of joy.”

“Thank you, kind sir, but I need a drink.”

There were a few shocked gasps around them. Ivan hadn’t moved. By twigged instantly. “Aha. You were right. The old show pony was working up to this. It should be good. I hope she says _no_.”

“Oh, don’t be so mean!”

There was a collective holding on of breath as Ivan proposed. By saw Raine’s face change expression from bewildered shock to panic, and then to laughing acceptance as she nodded her head.

“Well, wasn’t that romantic?” He swept Sela off to be first in line for the champagne. “Now’s the time to eat, drink and be merry. We’ll call past and congratulate the happy couple in a while. They’ll be swamped by their friends just now.”

“I thought you were his friend?” Sela gave him one of its looks.

“Ye…es, but sort of a hanger-on friend, not a bosom buddy, if you know what I mean.”

“I think you’re selling yourself very short,” Sela told him. “Why does that man over there have the same outfit as you—oh, is that Count Vorrutyer? He does have eyes just like yours.”

“Yes, that’s my Cousin Dono. Let’s grab some food first and then go say hello.”

Dono was with Olivia and Madame Koudelka. By introduced Sela all round and Olivia immediately pounced on it. Dono’s gaze on By was quite calculating.

“What the hell have you done to yourself, By? Madame Koudelka here remarked that she hardly recognised you, looking so respectable as you are.”

Dono could laugh at him but he didn’t want his cousin laughing at Sela. “Count’s heir, don’t you know? Someone in the family has to be respectable now.”

Madame Koudelka’s laugh rang out instead. She hastily clapped a hand across her face. “Oh, goodness, Byerly. I didn’t mean to be rude. I remarked upon how _happy_ you looked. Dono does respectable very well himself, these days.”

“He does, doesn’t he? I can’t think of anything better to have happened to the District. So, my lord count, have you found yourself another place to live yet?”

Dono tried to frown him down. “No, I haven’t, but I am having those dungeons cleaned out. The University jumped at the chance, just like you predicted. There are a few bits of particular interest to them, they said.”

“All the better. Turn your dining room into a museum and have them set it up. You don’t have to lift a finger that way. We should be getting the first tourists—”

He broke off as all the ImpSec personnel in the room suddenly sprang to attention. There was a loud shout as a horde of uniformed figures closed round the Emperor and Empress to hustle them off. By’s brain put things together in a big hurry.

“Dono! Get Szabo. We need to go to the South Lawn, now!” He dragged Dono by the arm and hustled him out of the French windows as fast as his feet would take him. Olivia and Sela were hot on his heels and even Madame Koudelka could sprint with the best of them. The force fields sprang up just behind them as arc lights lit up the grounds with a blinding ferocity that had them almost stumbling. The whine of lightflyers and Imperial stingers sounded overhead.

“What?” Dono saved most of his energy and breath for running.

“Not what, who.” _Yes_ , By saw. The idiots were still there, gawking in the light like stunned moths.

Nigel Vorolney was the first to see them coming. He didn’t have a knife with him tonight, but it would have made no difference. He was no match either way. By had him on his face on the ground with a boot in the middle of his back and one arm wrenched up behind him in the wink of an eye.

Olivia Koudelka faced off with Marcel Vorevreaux. He looked at her in contempt. “Don’t get in my way, Missy.” Olivia said nothing. She crouched and Vorevreaux went down with a shattered kneecap and a scream of agony. It had taken her less than a second.

A Vorevreaux armsman made a half-hearted attempt to protect his master but surrendered before Madame Koudelka had to so much as look at him the wrong way. Stasya Vorkalnins leapt to her feet with a bottle in her hand and ran full tilt at By.

“Get off him, you, filthy pig!” Her hand was still moving in its backswing when a stunning haymaker to the jaw had her crashing to the ground. Sela stood panting over her. “Oh no you don’t. Not to my Byerly.”

“Not much left for me to do,” Count Dono remarked, gazing round at the mayhem as Szabo panted up behind him at last. “Why have we assaulted these people, By?”

By didn’t reply. He needed some information in a hurry. He hauled on Vorolney’s twisted arm until he screamed in agony. “Where have they been hiding, Vorolney? You’d better tell me or I’ll rip your arm off. Kravik’s not here to save you now.”

“I don’t know!”

Vorolney screamed again. He could ask Vorevreaux, but he wasn’t exactly coherent just then. By shifted his boot slightly so it rested on Vorolney’s neck. He felt a click as the shoulder dislocated.

“Stop! Stop!" Vorolney shrieked at him. " _Vortien_. Vortien’s District. In an old hunting lodge.”

Vorevreaux hissed in blind fury. “You fool! You fucking idiot!”

By dropped Vorolney as if he’d burned him. “Dono, get to a guardpost and tell them.”

“Tell them what?”

“Tell them to search for an old hunting lodge in Vortien’s District. The _Princess Olivia_ hijackers should be there, if ImpSec doesn’t round them all up here tonight.”

He slumped to the ground himself, suddenly done. “We’ll just wait here for the cavalry to arrive.”

ImpSec were taking no chances. The whole group bar Olivia and Drou was arrested and bundled off to interrogation cells. By sat for what seemed like hours in an agony of worry for Sela until the door slid open and General Allegre marched into the room.

By leapt to his feet. “Did you get him? Did you get Vorbataille?”

“Unfortunately, no, not yet. Evelina Vortien is dead, but your friend Vorolney supplied us with more information about the hunting lodge. It’s being raided as we speak.”

He looked dreadful. Something was wrong. “The Emperor? Is the Emperor safe?”

“Yes, the Emperor is safe and Vorresiak is dead, but…” He paused, his face grim.

“But what?”

“Count Voralys has been seriously wounded. It…he…it doesn’t look good.”

By felt the floor swoop away from under him. He had to sit down again. “ _Ivan?_ Ivan is dying?”

“We hope not. We desperately hope not.”

He sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, until General Allegre spoke again. “What made you act the way you did tonight?”

“What? Oh…at the start of the evening Stasya Vorkalnins told me she, Evelina and Vorolney were out on the South Lawn. There was no need for them to be there unless they wanted to hide something. I guessed it was Vorevreaux, and he’s up to his eyebrows in this shit. I didn’t want them getting away as innocent bystanders.”

“Well, you might just have saved the day, Vorrutyer. Vorevreaux is singing like a bird and we also have Huet, the Vorbataille armsman, who was waiting in the getaway car.”

“What have you done with Sela?”

“The herm? It’s free to go. It’s waiting for you in the visitors' lounge.”

“I’m surprised it’s still waiting. I thought it would be on its way back to Beta by now.”

“You need to tell that herm about ImpSec. It’s been screaming blue murder, demanding to see the Betan ambassador and standing eyeball to eyeball with my custody sergeant demanding to see _you_. It’s either very, very brave or incredibly stupid.”

“Sela’s not stupid.” Under any other circumstances By would have collapsed into hysterical laughter at the visual image Allegre’s clipped words produced in his head, but, _Ivan_. “Shall I take it home?”

“ _If_ you please. I’ll even supply the transport to make sure it doesn’t divert to the embassy after all.”

The second he appeared in the doorway Sela flew across the room to hug him.

“Byerly! Thank god! Take me out of this awful place.”

“Immediately. Let’s just pick up this ice pack and your fan, and we’ll be on our way. What the ice pack for?”

Sela held up a bruised and battered hand. “At least I didn’t break my fingernails.”

“And I didn’t break my head. I remember now. Thank you, Sela, that probably went against the grain with you, but I really appreciate it. Have you heard any news?”

“Not a thing. They’re very close-mouthed round here, when they’re not yelling at me to sit down.” Sela stared, narrow-eyed and resentful, at the custody sergeant who was escorting them out.

“That’s their job, Sela. Come one, I’ll tell you all about it in the car.”

 

 


	23. Actions, consequences and Dinosaur eggs

 

 

Actions have reactions. He’d learned about that in primary school as he’d managed not to get thrown out of primary school. Actions also have consequences. He’d learned that fact in High School right before he did get thrown out. It was being brought home fully today. Byerly Vorrutyer sat in the Emperor’s waiting room, cooling his heels while his Imperial Majesty debated with General Allegre and Miles Vorkosigan what to do with him. He checked his chrono for the third time in seven minutes. He was about ready to do something drastic like bite his nails when the Emperor’s secretary finally sent him through.

Normally, it was impossible to see any emotion on the Emperor’s face but he sat less than two metres away from where By came to his version of attention. Today Gregor Vorbarra looked strained and worried. After the first glance By kept his gaze fixed over the Emperor’s shoulder.

“Vorrutyer. We meet again.”

“Good morning, sire.”

A fraught silence stretched out. By wasn’t going to break it. “So, General Allegre here tells me we have you to thank for finally pinning down these bastards.”

“Not the ringleaders, obviously, but the bit players deserve to pay as much as the principals do. It was a hunch, sire. Where you find Nigel Vorolney you usually find Marcel Vorevreaux and anything else that crawls out from under rocks. He _had_ to be associated with Louis Vorbataille. Evelina Vortien…I’d been trying to save her, but she was in so much deeper than I realised.”

“Than we all realised, I’m sorry to say. It’s hard to imagine anyone so young being so—” The Emperor broke off, to gaze out of the window. “Come and sit down. We have to salvage what we can from the mess.”

So he wasn’t going to be banished to Kyril Island. By sank thankfully into the chair the Emperor pointed out to him, facing the Head of ImpSec and the Lord Auditor. The Emperor took a couch between them with his back to the light.

“Please, sire, if I may ask, how is Ivan?”

“Not good. Admiral Waleska is doing everything he can, of course, which is basically supervising the machines doing Ivan’s breathing for him and cleaning his blood as best he can. He expects the toxins to take five days to leave his system, always supposing there aren’t any other complicating factors. He’s worried today about peritonitis from the laceration.”

Ivan had been stabbed over two days ago. Any infection would be cooking nicely by now.

“He’s running the bug screen, of course. We’re trying to keep on top of it. We want to avoid cryogenics if at all possible.”

“Cryo—” By couldn’t force the word past his throat. _Oh, Ivan, always so full of life_. They all sat looking bleakly at one another.

“What can I help with?” By asked, at last.

The Emperor shifted in his seat. “I’ve requested Etienne Vorinnis to be ready to act as Ivan’s voting deputy for at least the next several months. He’s still recovering from his own trauma, though. He won’t be able to handle both jobs.”

By didn’t like the way this was going. “He hates my guts, sire. He wouldn’t thank me for interfering in Rotherhall.”

“We’re aware. Etienne told Us all about it, quite candidly, We may add. What We’re going to do, if you consent, is send you to New Sheffield. You can administer the District from there and keep an eye on Etienne’s deputy in Rotherhall.”

“Jenny Beck? Yes, that would work. She’s extremely competent.” He paused, in doubt. “Do you honestly think I can handle a District, sire? People not too far from here would only think I’m capable of handling myself.”

“Lord Auditor Vorkosigan is happy for you to…er…try your hand in the role, if that was what you were thinking.”

The Emperor was a comedian. Who’d have thought? It was uncanny the way he picked up the undercurrents. “I’ll need to spend a few days with Philip Nicolaides at Voralys House, to try and work out what I’ll be up for. He’s another one that doesn’t like me.”

Miles spoke up at last. “It’s Marie’s birthday very soon. Lady Alys was going to coordinate the party for her, but it’s all a bit of a worry with her being so unwell recently. I’d ask Ekaterin, but she’s completely snowed under right now.”

“I can certainly help with that, too, if Lady Alys doesn’t object.”

Gregor smiled faintly. “She’ll be delighted. Good, that’s settled. There is one other aspect of your involvement in the situation we all need to talk about.”

“I blew my cover.”

“Your heroics would certainly seem to have done that. We can cover it up, but no one is going to believe the dissolute dilettante persona any more. Not when you inflicted grievous bodily harm without any apparent effort. You’ll have to morph into the outré eccentric instead.”

He said it with a perfectly straight face, too. By tried to play along. “How about a degenerate decorator?”

“We see you in a variety of roles. You’ll continue to report to either Lady Alys or Miles. Your social status has changed recently and We can foresee more mainstream work now. We are not going to ask you to associate with drug pushers and pornophiles any more, Vorrutyer. Thank you for that service. It wasn’t easy for you.”

He didn’t phrase it as a question, he _knew_. No, it hadn’t been easy.

“You’ll be aware, sire, that I’ve recently acquired a companion.”

“Yes, I wanted to meet Sela Thorne at the ball. Is this likely to be a long term association?”

“I’d hoped it was going to be permanent. If I have my way it still will be, sire, but Sela got a good look at the worst Barrayar has to offer over the past few days, including a close look at ImpSec headquarters. Always supposing I get over that hurdle there’s still a little matter of its visa to be taken care of.”

“Of course. The last Betan immigrant I have personal experience of turned out to be an asset to the Imperium. From the reports I’ve had so far the honourable Sela Thorne may well be another. Thorne is welcome to accompany you to New Sheffield as you’re entitled to a personal aide of your own choosing. That would give it a level of authority in certain situations.”

“You’ll make that official? That’s very kind of you, sire.”

The Emperor rose and they all scrambled to follow him. He held out his hand in farewell. “We’d have ripped that bastard’s arm off if We’d had the chance. He’s the one that lured Evelina into the pornography and drugs. You forget, Vorrutyer, that we’re all grateful to _you_. It’s the least that We can do. Sort Mademoiselle Marie’s party out, and then We’ll look forward to your reports from New Sheffield.”

 

Having got the easy part out of the way, By headed back to Sela’s apartment. The herm had to move out the next morning and he still didn’t know what it was going to do. They’d spent the last two nights apart, at Sela’s carefully worded request, while it _re-centred_ itself. One thing was for sure, Sela probably had no romantic notions left about Barrayar, or about him. The thought of losing Sela _terrified_ him. His own little apartment, once his castle, had seemed so _empty_ these past two nights, sterile and meaningless.

Sela opened the door at the first buzz. It still looked pale and shaken, with great dark circles under its eyes.

“Aww…look at you! May I come in?’

“Of course.” Sela stood back to let him enter.

“Have you eaten anything? How’s your hand? You obviously haven’t been sleeping. What can I do for you?”

“You can stop fussing and give me that bottle of wine you’re clutching so ferociously it’s turning your knuckles white.”

By held the bottle up to show it and smiled weakly. “Traditional Barrayaran cure-all. Get stonking drunk and forget your troubles. Usually by the time you’ve recovered from the hangover the troubles don’t seem so bad after all.”

Sela managed a faint smile. “On one bottle? That’s just an ice breaker. If you’d wanted me drunk you’d have fetched half a crate. I’ll find the glasses.”

They settled in the lounge, facing each other. “I don’t know what to say to you, Sela.”

“How about _pour the wine?_ You’re not in any trouble, you know, Byerly.”

By disagreed. “I think I’m on the verge of utter disaster, if you can’t stomach Barrayar and the vile things we do to each other.”

“None of this is about you, or about Barrayar.”

By took a cautious sip of his wine. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s about coming to terms with myself as the most humbugging hypocrite in three worlds, as you like to say here.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Well, you’re Barrayaran, aren’t you? We Betans have looked down our collective noses at you for years, ever since the end of the Time of Isolation. You poor benighted savages with no culture or civilisation, so hot-headed and so violent.”

By poured some more wine into Sela’s empty glass. “I still don’t think I understand your point.”

Sela held up its fist. “This is my point, Byerly.” The bruises on Sela’s knuckles had darkened into purple and yellow splotches spreading across the back of its hand towards its wrist.

By tried to suppress a smile. “I think Stasya got your point quite convincingly, but I’m still struggling. Are you trying to tell me you’re just as bad as I am?”

“I think I must be. I’ve lived and breathed by rights and responsibilities I’ve had no place in fashioning. I just utter mealy-mouthed platitudes. At the first sign of aggression I was in there with the rest of them. All I could see was that you were going to get hurt and I actually wanted to kill her, Byerly. I wanted to kill a living, breathing human being.”

“A very evil one, as it turns out.”

“She should be _helped_ to see the error of her ways.”

Relief had started to make him feel giddy. It couldn’t be the wine yet. He’d only had half a glass. “Oh, Sela, I think you helped her see just fine. Maybe try an uppercut next time. You get more show for your blow that way. Usually teeth or blood, not just a broken jaw.”

Sela stared at him like he’d gone mad. “ _I broke a woman’s jaw_ , Byerly. A woman!”

“Very egalitarian of you. Olivia Koudelka broke Vorevreaux’s kneecap. It’s a good job you didn’t try it on her. You’d have come off second best.”

“You don’t think I’m an awful person?”

It really was troubled. By scooted over to sit on the arm of Sela’s chair. “No, you are a beautiful person and with any sort of luck that’s the first and the last time you’ll have to do anything violent. I don’t think I’m the right one to advise you here, you know. You should talk to Countess Cordelia. I think she’s walked in your shoes many times.” He gave Sela a hug. “You’re not a hypocrite. You did what you had to do, and you saved me from all that flying glass. She could have put my eye out.”

“Oh, not your eyes, Byerly.” Huge teardrops started to roll down Sela’s face. “Not your beautiful eyes.”

It all went much better after that. Sela had a cry and started to cheer up. By poured it another glass. “It’s our last day here. If I’d thought about it I could have brought my swimming gear and we could have done a few laps in the pool.”

Sela’s expression took on more warmth as the last of the bleak sadness was banished. “Well, there’s always the spa. You don’t need clothes for that.”

By leapt to his feet and held out his hand. “You know what? You’re quite right. That’s an excellent idea. I need you nice and relaxed before I tell you my news. The Emperor has got plans for us. I’m terrified.”

Sela ignored By’s proffered hand. “I’m not moving from this spot until you tell me exactly what’s happening.”

“Oh yes you are.” By hauled it up bodily and set it on its feet. “Don’t make me carry you, because I doubt I could do it. Fireman’s lift, maybe, but you really don’t want to see me bright red and wheezing. I might crease my suit, too.”

“Oh, heaven forbid.”

 

By felt nervous as he showed Sela into his little apartment. Everything was as polished and precise as he could make it, and he’d bought a bunch of lavender, one of Sela’s favourite flowers, to sit in a vase on the table.

“It’s not what you’ve been used to.”

Sela ran its hand across the back of the lounge, and wandered into the bedroom and back out again. “It’s lovely. Just lovely, Byerly. Home.”

“Yes, home. I’ll get you settled in, and then I need to go round to Voralys House. I have a party to organise.”

“I’m so sorry the count is no better. It’s a wicked thing that’s happened.”

“Ivan’s going to get better. We none of us can manage without our Ivan, especially not his little girl. What the hell do I say to her, Sela?”

“You let her lead the conversation, and you don’t tell her any lies. Children hate hypocrites. If she asks when her father is coming home you just say you don’t know. If she asks _if_ her father is coming home, give her a big hug and tell her he’s trying his best. Has she been to the hospital?”

“He’s in the Infirmary at The Residence. No, she hasn’t been to see him. She met him in a hospital, when she lost her mother.”

“Not good. Do your best and you’ll be fine, Byerly.”

 

It was easy enough for Sela to say, but By felt anything but fine as he waited for the front door to open that afternoon at Voralys House. Armsman Harper showed him in.

“Any news?”

“No, sir. No change. Lady Alys is waiting for you in the library.”

Simon Illyan was there, too. He shook By’s hand. “This is a bad business. Thank you for your good work. The only one left to find is Vorbataille. He can’t last too long.”

“You’ll understand if I say it was a pleasure.”

“Oh, yes. Come and sit down and have some tea.”

By bowed formally over Lady Alys’s hand. “I’m so very sorry, my lady. More than I can say.”

She looked desolate, ten years older than the last time he’d seen her. Her bleak expression chilled him. “Raine is with him. One of us is always with him. We need a good actor, Byerly, to treat Marie as if nothing has happened. Can you do that for us? She’ll be home from school soon. We’re trying to keep her routine the same, until I get my son back.” Her voice cracked as she said _son_.

“I can do that. What’s the scope?”

Simon answered for Alys, who was searching for her handkerchief. “It’s only going to be a small affair. Ivan told her she could invite seven people to her party, so this was her first attempt.”

He held out a flimsy he’d taken from the mantel and By ran down the list of names. _Stefa, Fox, Harper, Driscoll, Mamie, Papi, My Ivan._

 _“_ Stefa is our cook’s daughter. She said the rest are her best friends in all the world.”

“So who have we ended up with?”

“Four girls and three boys. All seven years old and security cleared.” Simon sounded rather bitter about that, but the necessity wasn’t going to go away.

“Ponies. We need ponies, and dressing up. What are seven year old boys into? It’s a long time since I was seven years old. Is Lord Vortalon still around?”

Simon shrugged. “I think they all want to be Lord Ivan at the moment. He’s a hero.”

By winced. “That’s not a good idea. We should have a stegosaurus party, then. I think we can hire an animatronic one. What’s my budget?”

Lady Alys spoke up. “You can spend whatever you want, Byerly. Ma Belka is happy to make the cake. Just tell her what you need.”

Marie came home at last. By was sorry to see her rush into the library then pull up short in disappointment as she looked around. “My Ivan’s not home yet.”

Papi Simon shook his head. “No, Marie, but see who’s here. Uncle Byerly is going to help you with your party.”

Marie walked up to him and held out her hand. “Hello Uncle Byerly. Thank you for coming.”

He squatted down to eye level. “Are you sad?”

She nodded her head and whispered. “I don’t want a birthday party because My Ivan is very sick.”

“He’d be very sad to hear that, but you know what we can do instead?”

“What?”

“We can have a party for your Steggy, and all your friends can bring their steggies and we’ll cheer them all up. Do you want to fetch him and we can ask?”

“I will.” She ran off at top speed and called back over her shoulder. “Don’t go away, Uncle By.”

Simon looked at him in undisguised admiration. “You’re never at a loss, are you, Vorrutyer?”

“The inspiration comes from nowhere, sometimes. Steggy’s still allowed to enjoy himself. Now, apart from the fact that dinosaurs and humans didn’t ever co-exist, what’s a good party costume?”

Lady Alys had the solution. “Animals. The more bloodthirsty ones can come as sabre-tooth tigers or velociraptors, and the ones not so inclined can come as drop-bears or swans. Every little girl has a swan ballet costume.”

“Brilliant. I’ll dig out my faux tiger skin.”

She looked at him. A ghost of the normal Lady Alys flickered. “We could charge admission for that.”

“Tau Cetan beaded lizard?”

“Yes, you’d be very good as a lounge lizard. That might be better.”

Thankfully Marie came back in with Steggy under her arm. She had a smile on her face. “Steggy would love a party, Uncle By.”

“You need to think of an animal to dress up as.”

“Oh.” She thought for a while. “I can’t think of any pink animals, can you?”

“Maybe not animals, but birds, certainly. There are flamingos, or galahs.”

“Galahs? That’s a funny name. What does a galah look like?”

By crossed to the comconsole and puled up a few pictures for her.

“Ooh, that’s pink. I could wear some feathers, too.”

“We’ll sort something out. Come and show me the ballroom, and what you want, and I’ll get right on to it.”

 

They paid good money to dye four ponies pink, absolutely guaranteed to meet all the requirements of that most underfunded and hard-pressed organisation, the Barrayar Humane Society. The stegosaurus egg hunt went extremely well as amazingly all the children, Fox, Papi Simon and Uncle By _all_ found an egg, every one brilliantly coloured and full of chocolate dinosaurs. The pièce de résistance was the cake, an exact replica of Steggy, right down to the wonky eye. As By pulled his costume head off and leaned back against the wall in total exhaustion, he had to admit it had all been totally worth it to hear Marie giggle uncontrollably as Fox, who everybody agreed had an unfair advantage, came second in the costume competition, adult males over thirty section. The only thing about the whole day that really made him wince was the thought of explaining the cost of the ballroom to Ivan.

A furry hand bearing a large glass of wine crossed his vision. By looked around to see its owner slump down beside him, a glass in each hand. By took his and gulped gratefully.

“You know, I always thought _Aral Vorkosigan’s dog_ was an insult.”

Simon Illyan howled very convincingly. “The things we do.”

“Miles Vorkosigan as a pygmy hippo _deserved_ to win the costume competition, though.”

Simon snorted. “Adult males over thirty section. The judge was biased.”

“The judge was not biased. No names were divulged until after the results were announced. Madame Vorsoisson was just as surprised as all the rest of us.”

They both howled, with laughter this time. Even as his eyes watered By could acknowledge most of the emotion was relief. They’d had the news. _Ivan was going to get better_. “I wonder what Ivan’s going to think of the present Miles brought along for Marie?”

“Well, they did fit the theme.”

“Marie is absolutely smitten. He’s never going to be able to get rid of them without a major drama.”

Lady Alys sailed into the room, as elegant as ever in a swan costume. There was another streak of grey in her hair, otherwise no one would guess what the last week had done to her.

“Sound asleep. I’m so grateful to you both. Marie has had a wonderful time.”

By stretched his long limbs and pulled himself to his feet. “I must be going. We’re off to New Sheffield in the morning on the first shuttle. I’m sorry to leave the cleaning up to you, but it should be quite easy. Marie never noticed the false panels, did she?”

“No, they’ll be gone by morning. No Voralys decoration was harmed in the production of this party. I don’t think Raine realised either. She was rather horrified when she peeked in here this morning on her way to the Infirmary. I really must get changed and go and relieve her, so please excuse me.”

She sailed off again. By made the rounds of the staff to thank them and in the kitchen Ma Belka presented him with a large hamper.

“I’ve heard all about the cooking in New Sheffield. I don’t want you going hungry. I understand beaded lizards have special dietary requirements.”

By gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ma Belka, promise me your first apprentice, _please_. I’m forever in your debt.”

There was a ground car to take him home. Sela would be waiting for him. By had a gift for it, the stegosaurus egg he’d won in the treasure hunt. It was violet, Sela’s favourite colour. Funny how things turned out, sometimes.

 

 


	24. It's not about you

 

 

“I’m terrified.” By watched the native reds and the Terran greens of the Barrayaran countryside flashing past the porthole. “I can’t do this job.”

Sela Thorne looked at him. “Would you like some nice comforting platitudes or would you prefer the truth?” It looked like butter wouldn’t melt in its mouth.

By sighed. Anything would be a distraction. “You always need to tell me the truth, Sela. I don’t need it sugar coated.”

“It’s not actually about _you_. You’re a stopgap, a token Vor to send the message the Emperor hasn’t forgotten his good people in Voralys District. All the actual jobs have well-qualified people in them to do the work. You’re there for moral support, to show the flag and ask everyone if they have any problems which you will pass on to somebody else to solve. See and be seen. That’s what you need to do.”

Trust the herm to deflate his ego. “Well, if you put it like that, it shouldn’t be too hard, should it?”

Sela sent him a flashing grin. “Not for a show pony like you.”

Mikhail Karasavas met them at the District office’s rooftop flyer bay after they transferred from the shuttleport. The ImpSec major was hard-pressed for time. “I’ll take you both into the security office and have your palm prints and retina scans done so you can come and go as you please. Helen Nicolaides will be arriving this evening and she’s happy to be your local guide and mentor on what not to do.” He paused to run his eye over Sela. “It would be really useful, honourable herm, if you could choose one style of clothing to wear in public. There will be some attitudes here you won’t necessarily have met in Vorbarr Sultana, or in Rotherhall, either. If it’s at all possible it would save unnecessary complications.”

He was trying to be nice about it, but Sela should be allowed to wear what it wanted to wear. By opened his mouth to say so but Sela cut him off. “I appreciate the advice. I have a working uniform of tunic and trousers. Would that suit?”

Karasavas relaxed. “It would indeed. Thank you for understanding. I’ll leave the two of you to settle in. I believe you’ve been allocated adjoining rooms at this stage, but make arrangements to suit yourselves.”

“Just don’t scandalise the locals,” Sela whispered under its breath as it followed the major to the security office.

Ivan’s office, on the same floor, turned out to be a luxury work space. By sat in the most comfortable chair he’d ever used and ran through some of the flimsies stacked on the table. Nicolaides had warned him about most of these reports, to be noted and filed, or handed over to the relevant person, who was usually Nikos Gianakopoulos or his deputy, Milla Yastrezhembskyova. They both impressed him when they were introduced. They would certainly be the pair who knew where all the skeletons were buried. They’d obviously been briefed about Sela, too, who could talk to them with a fair degree of acumen. By lunch time, he felt as about settled in as he was going to get.

“Let’s go meet some people, Sela,” he said. “We could do with a break. I want to introduce you to Mrs Percy, over at _The Tea Kettle._ She was very kind to me when I needed it.”

There was a chill wind blowing across the square. A bulletin board stood on the steps outside the District office and bunches of flowers were piled up to either side of it. People who stopped to read it went away with smiles on their faces. By and Sela wandered over to check it out.

_1300 hours. Final bulletin. Count Voralys is expected to be released from hospital in the morning and will recuperate at Voralys House. His personal thanks are extended to all those who have left flowers and sent their good wishes. A Voice has been appointed by his Imperial Majesty to act on behalf of the Count until he is able to resume his duties._

Sela pointed to it. “See, I told you. It’s not about you. You’re just a voice.”

“That’s Voice with a capital V. It’s a specific job. Speaking of which, here’s _your_ first job, Sela. Find a clerk to gather all the cards from these flowers. Any with contact details get a personal thankyou. Any with names only get a public thank you. Take some vids first so Ivan gets an idea of what went on here.”

Sela pulled out a data filer and made a note. “Certainly, sir.” There was only a slight quirk to its lips.

Mrs Percy at _The Tea Kettle_ recognised him immediately. She bustled out to say hello and find out the latest news about the count. “Mr Vorrutyer, sir, are you the Count’s Voice? People will be pleased it’s someone we know.”

“You just call me Vorrutyer, Mrs Percy. That’s all I need. May I introduce Sela Thorne, my aide?”

Her reaction to Sela was confused. By decided to come right out with it. “Sela is from Beta Colony, Mrs Percy. It’s a herm.” He watched closely for her reaction. It might well be a litmus test for the town as a whole.

Her eyebrows disappeared. _Oh, oh, here it comes._ She surprised him, though. “What an honour! Welcome to New Sheffield. Vorrutyer here drinks coffee in the morning. If we can cope with that I’m sure you’ll be no problem. Let’s find you a table and some menus. We have a nice rabbit in mustard sauce today, or chicken in red wine, and our vegetarian dish is a leek and potato frittata.”

She took their orders and bustled off. Sela let out its breath on a shaky laugh. “I was trying so hard not to offend her! I’m as weird as you having coffee for breakfast.”

By smiled. “She wasn’t bothered at all, was she? Maybe she’ll go away and look up what a Betan herm is.”

They’d nearly finished their meal when a harassed ImpSec sergeant marched up and saluted. “Here you are, sir. Major Karasavas is concerned you left without telling him where you were going. You need to bring your bodyguard with you at all times.”

By had forgotten. “Oh, dear. Blotted my copybook on the first day on the job. Do you know who my bodyguard is, exactly?”

The sergeant looked at him. He didn’t quite roll his eyes. It was obvious that he wanted to. “Yes, sir. That would be me, sir.”

“Oh, sorry.” He hooked out a chair. “Sit down and have a cold drink. You look like you need it.”

“Thank you, sir, but no. I’ll just wait over here for you to finish. We’re not allowed to eat or drink anything not supplied by the section cook.”

That’s right. _ImpSec_. “It’s a whole new world, Sela. You should have tasted everything for me first.”

The sergeant, Visser, looked at them again. “That’s _my_ job, sir, should you require it.”

“Is the major angry with us?” By asked him.

The sergeant shook his head. “Oh, no sir, not at both of you. Only _you_. He’s chewing nails and spitting rust. It’s on account of the paperwork, don’t you see? He’s still sending reports about the last assassination attempt.”

That was a sobering reminder. The last man in the job had had his brains blown out at Prestwich. It wasn’t a joke. None of this was a joke. He had to smarten up his act pretty damn quick and never make the same mistake again.

“I’d better go apologise to Karasavas, Sela. I’ve got a horrible feeling it won’t be the last time, either.”

 

Sela had been right, of course. His job was mostly public relations and morale. By decided on a routine of paperwork in the morning and visits in the afternoon. His first visit once they’d finished lunch and grovelled to Major Karasavas was to Ivan’s paint factory, which was ready to come on stream. He wondered if the general manager knew he had the Vashnoi carpet to thank for his job. The man was very keen to get cracking.

“We’ve been waiting to be allocated our test building, sir, and no one has chosen the colour. The count's secretary told me pink, but I think he was joking, and anyway, you know how many shades of pink there are. I’m guestimating we’ll need to cover about twenty thousand square metres so that’s a lot of paint to tint to spec. It’s going to be a big test. The preparation and the applicator crews are ready to go. They were ready last week.”

“Here you go.” By handed over a flimsy with address details on it. He’d found it in one of the files Ivan had been working on, apparently Marie’s old home. There was only one colour really suitable for it. “I do believe the count’s favourite colour is fuchsia.”

“Fuchsia, sir? It's _not_ a joke?”

“Pink. Glorious pink. I think we’ll pick out the trim in white. The count wants to make a statement.”

The manager flicked through a colour card swatch to find the right one and looked at it in some dismay. “You’re quite sure?”

By looked at the sample. “Absolutely perfect. You have my authorisation to start. I’ll inform the municipal guard and notify all the relevant authorities.”

“Really? We can go ahead?” He looked thrilled.

“Really. We may even come out and help. Let us know when you’re ready to spray.”

Sela had been thinking. “How much does it cost to paint one of the accommodation blocks?”

The manager shrugged his shoulders. “This first one? About a hundred and fifty thousand, including setting up the factory and all the development. The actual cost for labour and materials will be closer to twenty thousand marks. A good rule of thumb is a mark a square metre.”

“That would be what? Between five and ten thousand Betan dollars? I’ve had the most wonderful idea, but we’ll need to wait until after this first one is done. I’ll start working on it.”

Sela wouldn’t say anything more on the ride back to the residence. By only asked once and gave up. He called through to Visser in the front compartment instead.

“Why don’t we stop by the Municipal Guard on the way home, Visser? They were next on my list so we may as well get it over with.”

“They won’t be expecting us, sir.” Visser sounded doubtful.

“Excellent. You just made my mind up. We’ll stop. Who’s the Guard Commander these days?”

“That would be ex-armsman Sheridan, sir.”

“Oh, really? That’s even better. I know Sheridan.” He could even say that Sheridan _owed_ him, big time, but he probably would have worked his way out of his difficulties eventually. By had no plans to cash in.

Visser had called ahead and a full ImpSec squad waited for the official ground car to arrive. They moved in rapidly to clear the foyer before By alighted. Sela looked at the place in horror as it climbed out of the ground car.

“What were they thinking?” Malevolent black mirror glass tessellated in small panels made it look like a giant bug, squatting ready to pounce on the unsuspecting passers by.

“Intimidation, probably.” By had to resist giving his conscience a going-over before he walked in. The stunned desk sergeant was someone else he knew quite well. “Sergeant McMillan. We meet again. This is Sela Thorne, my aide. Sela, Sergeant McMillan bought me a beer in the _Wheatsheaf._ It’s the patrollers’ bar. I’ll have to take you there if we get the chance.”

“I’ll let the commander know you’re here, sir. He’ll be right down.”

“Any reason why I can’t go right up?”

McMillan looked flustered. “Er, the palm scan, sir?”

“We’ll try it.” By walked over to the lift tube and held his hand over the read plate. The lift tube hummed to life. “Open Sesame. What do you know? What level?”

“Three, sir.”

In the time it took them to waft up McMillan had recovered and got through to his boss. Sheridan met them at the lift station.

“This is a surprise. Thanks for coming sir. You’re very welcome. Please come in.”

Well, there was no guilty conscience evident here. By listened to Sheridan’s run down, told him about the painting starting and watched out of the corner of his eye as Sela made various notes as they went along.

Before he left, he asked one last question. “Has there been any more problems like that one we saw at the _Wheatsheaf_? What was his name, Darian?”

Sheridan’s lips thinned. “Some people are slow learners. There are one or two like him around. Darian is sitting in a remand cell right now, charged with attempted extortion. People just aren’t having that sort of thing any more as they had to put up with it for too long without any hope of redress. I acted on a complaint and had a warrant issued.”

“Excellent.” By stood up. “You get back to work. I’ve disturbed you long enough. I’m very happy to leave you to it, but keep sending in the reports. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with. I’ll see myself out.”

In the lift tube going down he spoke to Sela. “What in the world were you writing down all that time?”

“I was doing a shopping list. Commander Sheridan didn’t need to know that. He thinks I’m making a file on him.”

By grinned. “You are evil, Sela Thorne, but I like it. Let’s go see what we’ve got for dinner. I hope someone unpacked Ma Belka’s hamper.”

Helen Nicolaides arrived just before they sat down to dinner. By welcomed her into the residence and sent Sela off to the kitchen. “Tell them to put some more water in the soup and set an extra place.”

She laughed. “Philip told me you were a bit of a character, Vorrutyer. I last saw you at Ivan’s party, if you remember, but I don’t think you showed to best advantage that night.”

By shuddered. “I’ve been trying my best to forget that party, as should you. Come and have a drink, and we’ll see what the kitchen can come up with. We won’t starve. Ma Belka sent emergency rations.”

“She did?” Helen cheered up immediately. “That’s good news.” Her face soon fell again. “I saw Count Voralys briefly this morning. I almost didn’t recognise him. It’s absolutely horrible to see what that poison has done to him.”

“But he’s getting better? That’s what the bulletins said.”

“He couldn’t get any worse and still be alive. He’s got all the best people looking after him, though. We’ll just have to wait and see.”

By thought about Ivan the way he’d last seen him at the ball, brimming with health and happiness. “It’s our job to make sure he’s got nothing to worry about. We can discuss what’s best to be done over dinner. Here’s Sela back all in one piece so it must have dodged the cleaver. Let me introduce you. No problems, Sela?”

“Nothing insurmountable. They’ll be ready in five minutes.” Sela shook hands with Helen and offered her its arm. “Shall we go through?”

 

By had never had the opportunity to work as a team, but they settled in almost seamlessly. He toured Prestwich, went back to Rotherhall and showed his face at all the major District facilities, including the courts and the hospitals. By made sure he popped up everywhere, with his aide and ImpSec squad on hand. Helen Nicolaides took over as his coordinator, mostly staying back in New Sheffield to liaise with her husband back in the capital. When they got the word the tower block was ready to be painted they all downed tools and headed out.

It was actually difficult to get a good vantage point as all the blocks were so close together, but Sela managed to find a tenant in the block across the road who was happy to let them lean out of his window on the tenth floor. With all the windows and the main doors masked off, the applicator spray used anti-grav to soar up and down the bulding. It was like watching the most enormous car wash in progress, except the colour went on instead of the dirt coming off. There was a huge crowd to watch, all standing respectfully behind the Municipal Guard cordons. A collective sigh went up as the machines finished the front façade.

By smiled wth satisfaction. “I think we’ve seen enough. What do you think of the colour, Helen?”

She was almost speechless. “It’s…stunning. I don’t know what to say.”

The apartment tenant had stared long and hard as the painting progressed. He absolutely beamed at them. “That’s the most brilliant thing I’ve seen. Look at it! Colour! We’ve been miserable for far too long. I’m going to wake up with a smile on my face every morning, just to see that.”

“That’s exactly what we wanted to hear. I’ll be sure to let the count know what you said, as soon as I see him again.”

“Tell him thank you from me. I thought when I saw him bring the Viceroy here something might happen, but I never dreamed it would be this.”

“I’ll be sure to.” By glanced around the spartan room. “Is there anything else you need?”

The man sighed. “Only employment, sir. You’d need a real miracle for that to happen, though.”

“We’re working on it. You haven’t been forgotten, I promise.”

There was so much work to be done it was three weeks before By thought of taking any days off. He needed to get back to the capital. Dono’s bachelor party was creeping ever closer, and the wedding the week after that. Sela was going to stay in New Sheffield while he went to the party and he left everything in his deputies’ capable hands. Sela was working on its mysterious project and Helen kept everyone and everything in order. It was all under control.

It had been quite a dilemma, trying to organise a bachelor party for Dono. All of the usual ideas seemed inappropriate somehow. By even consulted with Miles and Kou, trying to come up with something. Ivan wasn’t going to be able to go anywhere, much to his disgust.

It was simple, really. If Ivan couldn’t go to the party, they could take the party to Ivan. Dono thought it was a great idea as security was taken care of and they didn’t need any fancy decorations, either. All they did was set up in the ballroom at Voralys House. They even had the perfect person to call in. On Miles’ advice By brought ex-major Vorjenner with him from New Sheffield.

“So what’s it all about?” Dono asked when he was led blindfold into the library.

“It was a unanimous decision,” By explained, whipping the blindfold off. “You are going to need self-defence lessons.”

“Big time,” Miles added. Kou grinned evilly. “If I have to suffer, you can too. Welcome to the family.”

Ivan lay on a couch where he could see all the action and even referee if he felt like it. “You missed out on all of this stuff when you were growing up. What you need is a crash course.”

“Crash course?” Dono swallowed hard. “Really?”

There was an exercise mat at one end and a portable steam bath and massage set up at the other end of the huge room, and the armsmen had a spit turning in the courtyard.

“Everyone knows the rules,” By kindly explained further, “no bruises where they’ll show in the wedding vids.”

There had to be forfeits, of course. It wasn’t going to be bachelor party without forfeits. Miles had brought a bottle of maple mead with him. The only one exempt was Ivan. It was pretty silly of him to fall asleep, though, even with Admiral Waleska along to keep an eye on him. The dye was washable, eventually.

Ivan needed the non-alcohlic beer By had found for him by the time he woke up.

Dono was a giggling drunk. Everything was _hilarious_.

It wasn’t so hilarious trying to get him home to Vorrutyer House. By had to leave it to Szabo and Joris in the end. Dono _flopped_ into the ground car. He wouldn’t be quite so floppy in the morning. More likely he’d be as stiff as a board.

 

 


	25. Father Frost is coming

 

 

Byerly Vorrutyer did not think of himself as a sentimental person. He’d spent so long appearing not to care about anything or anyone he’d forgotten about sentiment, but today all that had changed. He stood with his cousin in an antechamber at Vorhartung Castle, checking for any impertinent stray hair or piece of lint that would dare to mar Dono’s glossy magnificence. He found nothing, but the count’s shoulder was shaking as he swept his hand across it.

“Nervous, Dono? You’ve done all this before, don’t forget. There’s only three hundred or so people out there waiting for you to forget your vows or trip over your feet. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Take a deep breath and soldier on. We should get this show on the road.”

The count looked up into By’s face. “I—”

“I know, coz, you don’t know how to thank me. I’ll think of something suitable.”

Dono didn’t move. His eyes were deep with emotion. By dropped his act and said what he’d been thinking for the past hour as the guests began to arrive. “Dono, I thought I’d be _dead_ before I was thirty. I watched you breaking your heart and running wild and banging your head on brick walls until you bulldozed your way through them. I’ve watched you turn into this.” He gently dusted Dono’s shoulders again. “I’m so proud of you. _Anything_ I can do to help, just ask.” He swallowed. “They’re going to be sending in the search party any second now. I _know_ , Dono, I know.” He picked up a bag of groats from a side table and hefted them in his hand. “Come on. She’s waiting.”

Lady Alys was coach, and Olivia, on her father’s arm, took all their breath away as she glided into the groat circle. By and Delia Galeni closed the gap with their bags of groats and the room became hushed as they all listened to the vows.

Sela, dressed in its blue velvet gown, stood on the second circle of witnesses next to Ivan, ready to help if needed and By noticed it with a hand under Ivan’s arm a couple of times as the ceremony proceeded. By stepped up at the end to sweep the groats aside with his boot and claim the first kiss, making the most of it until Dono poked him in the ribs.

“Hands off Countess Vorrutyer.”

By stepped back and bowed low. “My lord count.” He swept to one knee and kissed Olivia’s hand. “My countess. Yours to command.”

Dono put his hand on his head and squashed him down as he walked past to claim his wife’s hand back. “Just you remember that, coz.”

By the time he was back on his feet he saw Sela helping Ivan to a couch at the side of the room. They could manage for a few minutes more. He joined in the melée round the happy couple and kissed all the ladies he could find. Ekaterin Vorsoisson laughed aloud at his antics.

“There are three different liveries of armsmen all lining you up, Byerly. I wouldn’t cross Pym or the Vorbretten man over there. He’s got his eye on you.”

“Szabo won’t save you, either,” Dono told him in passing. “I dare you to try my new sister Martya.”

“There’s as much chance of that as there is of me kissing Lady Alys with Simon Illyan watching,” By said. Martya Koudelka had never given him the time of day and he wasn’t going to see if she’d mellowed _now_. He still had some sense of self-preservation.

“Don’t look now but Ivan is kissing Sela,” Ekaterin whispered.

“I should think that would be the other way around,” By said, not turning around to look. “Sela wants to kiss everybody and Ivan’s in no state to fight back. I’m not jealous, _much_.”

By ended up next to Raine. She eyed him with disfavour. “I’m not planning on causing a rift between you two,” she said, “Don’t think you can use me to try and make it jealous.”

He settled for a peck on the check and held out his arm. “Let me take you over to Ivan. He’s _wilted_.”

The grip on his arm tightened. “He’s not getting any better, Byerly. We’re all just about at our wits’ ends over him. Wally thought we had the antidote but it hasn’t done much good.”

They’d approached Ivan by this time. By looked down at him. “Yes, we’re talking about you. Your fiancée is a spoilsport. She wouldn’t let me kiss her.”

Ivan looked wan, but he could still smile. “She’s saving that for me. I’m going to go home, By. I’ll expect you back at Voralys House tomorrow sometime. I need to talk before you return to New Sheffield. I’m so grateful for what you’re doing, but I’ve got one more favour to ask you.”

“Ominous. You rest and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Sela and I will look after Raine if she wants to stay. Fox can take you home and put you to bed.” Ivan looked like even conversation was getting too much for him. It was time to leave him in peace. “If you’ll excuse me I see a bottle of champagne with my name on it.”

By watched as Ivan made his tired way out of the room. He bit his lip and turned away.

“You’re doing everything you can, you know.” It was Sela, its eyes kind with understanding. By shrugged off his sadness.

“I know. Come on, we’ve got a celebration, here. I’ll be dancing the first dance with Delia, but after that, you are all mine.”

“You think so? Only if I don’t spot someone better.”

Delia Galeni just about cracked up at the sight of her husband dancing with Sela Thorne and trying to deal with its flirting. “Oh, dear, would you look at him? He’s the very definition of two left feet.”

“He doesn’t know whether to lead or not. Sela is behaving disgracefully. It’s having so much fun. We should look at Dono and Olivia instead. They are a picture of grace and joy.”

“Oh. Aren’t they? I’m so happy for Olivia.”

“Not jealous she’s a countess?”

“No indeed. Countesses have to put up with too much crap. All I have to put up with is frightful danger and never seeing my husband when there’s a flap on. I have a lovely home to live in, a great job and a wonderful husband. What else do I need?”

“Put it like that, I see your point.”

By danced with the mother of the bride and with Ekaterin, just to annoy Miles, but he saved most of the dances for Sela. It had left its feathers at home, but in the gown it was still beautiful. It made his pulse race.

“This is Barrayar at its best,” Sela remarked. “All the pomp and pageantry and colour. There should be more of it.”

“More weddings?” By gazed at Sela for a few moments. This wedding business was contagious, but the hurdles would be enormous, even supposing Sela wanted any such thing. They would have to go to Beta, for a start. “It’s a nice thought. We have Ekaterin and Miles coming up, and Winterfair, don’t forget. Winterfair is magical. It’s going to have all the colour and spectacle you could possibly want.”

 

By couldn’t quite believe what Ivan had just asked him. He sat across the other side of the fireplace from him in the library at Voralys House. He’d been bribed with a glass of fine red and a plate of Ma Belka’s prawn puffs. The fire was crackling and glowing as the light faded outside. The scent of burning apple wood and cinnamon filled the air. A log burned through and a galaxy of sparks whirled away up the chimney. By didn’t fall for it.

“You can’t actually be serious.”

Ivan’s grin wasn’t anything like it had used to be, but he managed a passable imitation. “I’m absolutely serious. You and Fox are the only ones who know, and Fox would be way too obvious. We’ll all be going to the wedding the next day, so it’s logical for you to stay here for a couple of days. Everyone knows you don’t get up early for anybody, so that’s the perfect excuse if you’re missed.”

By thought about the weeks he’d been putting in, up at 0730 hours, breakfast at 0800 hours and hard at work by 0830. Only Sela, Helen and maybe Mikhail Karasavas knew about that, of course. “I’m far too skinny. I’ll be obvious.”

“Haven’t you heard of a pillow? We’ll get the costume and the hair all sorted out at this end. You won’t have to do a thing.”

Ivan wanted him to play Father Frost, climb down that escape tunnel while everyone was decoyed away, and appear like magic in the library. Byerly Vorrutyer, as _Father Frost_. Somebody had rocks in their head.

“Sela will love it. It can dress up as the ice queen, and drive the sleigh to take you away. It’ll only be round the corner to the old stable block. It can handle that. Just think of the brownie points.”

“That’s true.” When would he ever get another chance to be Father Frost? Maybe for Dono’s kids, years down the tracks. Marie’s reaction should be fun, at that. He sighed. Ivan had sucked him in. “What time did you say I have to get up?”

Ivan lay back, the smile leaving his face as he thought who knew what. “I knew I could rely on you. I want this Winterfair to be really special for Marie, just in case.”

“ _Just in case_? Just in case of what?”

Ivan looked at him. “Just in case, By, that’s all. Everything could be different next year.”

Did he think he was dying? Did he _know_ something the rest of them didn’t? It wasn’t at all like Ivan to be defeatist like this. He needed to have a word to Wally.

“Just let me know when you sort out the costume. I’ll need to practise. And on no account are there to be spiders in that tunnel. All arrangements are off if I find spiders. No sacrifice is too great for House Voralys, but I draw the line at spiders. We’re quite clear on that one, aren’t we?”

“I’ll get Fox on to it. He’ll make all the arrangements.”

By flew back to New Sheffield wondering what on three worlds he’d just agreed to. Sela gurgled with laughter when it heard the news and giggled all the way back. Really, it knew how to be annoying, sometimes. The conversation did give By an idea, though. Winterfair was a magical time for children, or it should be. He checked with Helen when they got back to the office.

“How many children do you suppose there’d be in hospital over Winterfair?”

“I don’t have to suppose. I can pretty much tell you.” Helen ran through some data files on her vidscreen and pulled up a report. “Last Winterfair there were four hundred and eighty-seven, three hundred odd here in New Sheffield and the rest in Prestwich. They’re the only children’s wards we have. There may be a few more in General Hospitals, but not many. They’re usually sent here for treatment. I’m thinking the numbers would be down this year as the nutrition programmes are kicking in. Say four hundred to four hundred and fifty, round figures.”

“Ivan would like to do something for them, I’m sure. Did Vorclarence arrange a tree for them, at least?”

She looked sceptical. “I bet you already know the answer to that one, but I’ll find out.”

Sela was way ahead of him. “We can provide the trees, and allow the public to donate an ornament in memory of a loved one. If we got started now we could ask every sheet metal manufacturer in the District to produce a few Winterfair boxes to put chocolates or cookies in and we can have other businesses donate the contents. Or we could all get knitting. It can’t be that hard to make a steggy.”

“For you, maybe, perhaps not, but in theory, I love the idea. Let’s get the news channels on board.”

The great Winterfair craft-in snowballed. By gave a series of interviews explaning the scheme and called for volunteer co-ordinators in every town and village. Inside a week every child in hospital was covered with emergency spares ready to go. The donations kept on coming so they spread out to child care centres and primary schools. People who could knit donated their time and people who couldn’t knit their way out of a bag donated the yarn. Primary schools came on board and had children knitting simple back plates in all the colours of the rainbow. Assembly parties put all the bits together and embroidered the faces. Volunteers rolled up to bakeries and confectionery shops and began to assemble the ‘Count’s Gift’ boxes by the dozens. Winterfair spread its magic the length and breadth of the District.

Sela, the biggest instigator of the joy and goodwill, came up with another campaign, _No one on their own at Winterfair_. “We’ve got all the children covered. All we need now are the old and the lonely. Can we do anything for prisoners?”

“We should, I suppose. I’ll talk to the Guard Commanders. They might all end up with a steggy at this rate. They’re multiplying by the thousands.”

Three days before Winterfair By signed off on District work apart from emergency services, all of which were staffed by volunteers, and sent all the District employees home for the holidays. He crawled back to the residence and flopped onto the couch in the library. The fire was roaring up the chimney, keeping at bay the outside chill where Father Frost was nipping at the last of the workers hurrying home. If it wasn’t done now it wasn’t going to get done. There was an hour to spare before the last shuttle left for Vorbarr Sultana and he planned to sleep for at least half of that.

Sela had other ideas. It tossed By his greatcoat. “Come on, I want to see the square. All the lights are on.”

By groaned. “Sela, it’s _freezing_ out there. I want to go to sleep and I’ll have to disturb Sergeant Visser, too.”

“He’s waiting in the hall and you can sleep on the way. Everything’s packed and being loaded on the shuttle already. Pick up your skinny butt and drag it out here.” It batted its eyelids. “Pretty please. I’ve never felt cold like this.”

“Oh, alright.” Muttering under his breath he let Sela help him into the greatcoat and plonk a papakha on his head. Visser, as Sela had promised, was waiting for them.

“Last duty, segeant?” By asked.

“Yes, sir. Five days’ leave, starting at midnight. My wife is very happy. Best Winterfair present ever, she says.”

It was magic in the square. Even the heavens were co-operating. It was only every twenty years or so a full moon coincided with the Winterfair Solstice. Both moons were up, the major so close to full it was blazing in the sky, shining on the massive pine standing in the middle of the square. It was freezing hard now, and the cobbles were slippery underfoot. By’s breath hung in clouds around his head. The novelty would soon wear off for Sela, but right now it was delighting in the coloured lights and decorations like a child. Seeing the enchantment reflected in its eyes and the joy it took in little things was infectious. Too bad there was no snow yet. There was no joy like a snowball down the back of the neck.

Suddenly, and most unexpectedly in this heartland of the English firsters, a pure, clear tenor rang out in a Russian language ballad of heartbreak and loss, so typically Barrayaran it wrenched an emotive response from deep within. Winterfair had lost its magic too early for him. He’d been younger than Marie was now when Richars had spoiled it all for him. Somehow, in this struggling, desperately poor District, in its people, he’d begun to find it again.

Sela whirled to hug him and pulled up short. “Byerly,” it whispered, “oh, Byerly, please don’t cry.”

He didn’t care who was looking. He took Sela’s face in both of his hands and kissed it. “I’m not crying, well, not much. I’m happy. Let’s get on this shuttle before we freeze to the spot. We need to get back to Vorbarr Sultana in time for supper or you’ll go hungry to bed. We musn’t forget Sergeant Visser needs to get home to his wife, too.”

It took them a while to thaw out, but there were only six of them heading back to Vorbarr Sultana and they’d snagged an ImpSec lightflyer instead of the normal lumbering shuttle. Perhaps Major Karasavas was Father Frost in disguise. Helen Nicolaides hadn’t seen her husband for three weeks and their two guards and pilot were heading for home, too. The pilot cranked the heat up to high and By soon took off his hat and coat. It was a bit of a struggle doing it round his seat restraints, but he was skinny enough to manage.

“Father Frost bringing you anything special for Winterfair?” he asked Helen, more to make conversation than anything else. She turned pink, but it was with that infectious joy Sela had brought them all.

“Philip and I have an appointment booked at the Princess Kareen replicator centre two days after Winterfair. We’re going to start our baby.”

Sela squealed with delight and hugged her so tightly it was in danger of strangling her. “A baby! How wonderful. I suppose you only have the two choices here. Which do you want?”

That was a novel thought. Could herms have gendered children, or were they all hermaphrodite? Why did it matter?

Helen was still blushing. “I think Philip wants a boy. I really don’t mind. He was adamant we save up enough for a replicator birth. I wouldn’t have minded a body birth, either, but he wouldn’t look at that idea. I think he talked to the count about it and heard a horror story or two. With me working as well and us living in Voralys House we didn’t even have to take out a loan. Of course, we’ll need somewhere once the baby is due, but there are married quarters with two bedrooms, Philip says.”

She chatted on and on, Sela encouraging her. By sat back with his eyes half-closed, watching the two of them gossip away. It was all so very domesticated. He tried hard to imagine Philip Nicolaides as a father. Ivan made a natural father, which was strange seeing as he’d never had one himself, but Marie absolutely adored the ground he walked on. The thought of Philip with a child didn’t sit well. He was such a curmudgeon. He must be different with his wife.

It was nearly as absurd an idea as By having a child of his own.

 

 


	26. Happy Winterfair

 

 

The prosthetic cheek pads were so realistic, coupled with the white eyebrows and beard, that by the time By hid all of his hair in the most enormous white papakha he didn’t even recognise himself. His red velvet tunic and trousers were edged in fluffy white fur and fastened over the substantial padding with huge gold buttons. Sela buckled his belt for him, glossy black to match his boots, and he was ready.

The most complicated game of hide and seek, or was that going to be sardines, was going on in the House around him. Ivan’s new armsmen, sworn in just the day before, were keeping their eyes on doorways and reporting movements in furtive, low-voiced whispers. The sight of Ivan back to his best work was deeply pleasing and the turn-around in him since Dono’s wedding was nothing short of miraculous. He was so much better By and Sela weren’t going to go back to New Sheffield. By took another look at the flow chart in his hand and smiled. Everything was _organised._

Marie woke up and ran into the count’s bedroom, her squeals of excitement loud in the previously quiet house. Ivan sent her off to see Papi Simon, who took her down to breakfast. Once Lady Alys, Raine and the Waleskas went downstairs, he sent the signal to By’s room and let him in without anyone seeing. Fox was already there, to supervise By into the narrow tunnel and then take Sela off to the stable block.

Ivan checked By’s costume. “You look fantastic. If I didn’t know better I would have sworn you were Father Frost himself. You understand the timing?”

By waved his flowchart under Ivan’s nose. “We should synchronise our chronos. At exactly 0755 hours I start down this highly unappealing ladder and arrive at the library level at 0757. Precisely at 0756 Armsman Harper at the front door will have signalled an unauthorised visitor alert and everyone in the library runs out to see who it is. Fox slips into the library with his flash powder and lets me out at 0759, then sets off the flash at 0800 precisely, bringing everybody running back into the library to see me standing there when the smoke clears.”

“Exactly. Nothing can go wrong.”

“Oh, I love it when you say that. What if I get stuck and roast to death? There’s a roaring fire only two bricks away, remember.”

“Fox is there to pull you out. Nothing will go wrong.”

“I’ll come back and haunt you and your line forever if it does.”

Ivan checked his chrono and swore. “Shit. Gotta go, By. See you in the library.”

Fox opened the hatch and made sure By was secure on the ladder before dashing off to collect Sela and take it to where the sleigh was stashed. Left all on his own, By looked down the shaft and tried not to let his imagination run wild. His chrono ran agonisingly slowly.

At last it pulsed 0755. Sucking in a deep breath, he began his descent. No spiders so far, That was a good sign. There was a tiny shelf where the library hatch lay hidden, lit by the waning light of a glow stick left there several hours previously when Fox did his promised spider sweep. It was hard to hear anything through the hat and the books on the shelves. It was unpleasantly warm with the radiant heat from the bricks and the thick layer of padding he wore under his tunic. He could just see his chrono. It still read 0758.

“Hurry up!” The walls were starting to pressing on him, he was sure. At last there was a whoosh of cool air as the wall in front of him disappeared upwards. He jumped out into the library as the shelves settled back behind him.

Ivan’s voice sounded in the hall. “He has to be somewhere. Harper says we just missed him.” There was a bang and the smell of flash powder seared his nostrils. Fox should have been on a stage somewhere. His excited voice rang out.

“He’s in here! He’s in here!”

“Ho ho ho! Happy Winterfair!”

There was more than one scream from the other side of the library door. By had forgotten about the staff children. Fox stood bodily in front of the fire just to make sure they were safe as Stefa and Marie dashed in, followed by Stefa's brother and four or five more children. They all pulled up short, eyes wide with amazement.

Simon Illyan followed them in. His eyes were a lot narrower as he stared at By. “How the devil—”

“Line up, line up!” Ivan hurried to deflect Simon’s suspicion. There was a large sack stashed behind the couch, smuggled in at 0758 by the new armsman, Walton, By knew from his flowchart.

“So who deserves a present and who deserves coal? Count Voralys, report, please.”

Ivan stood behind the children. “Everyone here deserves a present, Father Frost. They’ve all tried very hard to behave.”

“Let me see.” He rummaged around in the bag and started producing gifts. “Stefa Belka. Piotr Belka. Simon Illyan. Armsman Fox. What’s this?” He pulled a red ribbon with a tag on it. “Marie Watson Voralys. It says _follow the ribbon_ , Marie.”

It wound around two of the armchairs and over to the curtains. There, in the bay window, stood a brand new easel with a pad of extra large drawing paper attached to it.

“Oh, thank you, Father Frost! How beautiful!”

Byerly went on down his list. "Lady Alys. Ma Belka. Armsman Harper.”

“He’s at the front door. I’ll fetch him.” Marie ran off to drag Harper in. They could hear her urging him along. “You have to come, Harper, or you’ll miss Father Frost!”

He was near the end of the sack when he found a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Byerly Vorrutyer.”

“He’s still asleep. We’ll leave it under the tree,” Ivan decided.

“Oh, no! I should go get him. Please, Da?”

Ivan shook his head. “If he’s too lazy he misses out. Any more there, Father Frost?”

There was one last one. “Sela Thorne.”

“Sela’s asleep, too.”

By tried his best to frown. The glue on his eyebrows wouldn’t let him. “I can’t wait. I have hundreds more houses to visit. Off we go. Come and wave goodbye.”

Sela had the troika ready in the courtyard. What it thought of trying to control three stamping ponies By had no idea, but the way they were backing and tossing their heads had him thinking he’d better get out there sooner rather than later.

“Goodbye children. Don’t forget to be good or the Baba Yaga will be looking for you!” He strode over to the sleigh, desperately trying to keep his footing on the icy ground. The capital was a lot colder than New Sheffield and the cobbles were slick even in daylight. The high-tec troika made him smile with its antigrav units making it hover three centimetres off the ground. The ponies were very real, though. He stepped up and stood in the footwell to wave.

“And off we go!” Sela clicked its tongue. “Walk on.” It was optimistic. The ponies shot off down the drive and By was hurled back into his seat and very nearly over it. The sudden commotion put the cap on their agitation. The ponies bolted.

“Whoopsie-daisy!” Sela had absolutely no idea what it was doing. Instead of trotting back to the stables the ponies shot out onto the main road at a full gallop, narrowly missing three ground cars and two pedestrians.

One of the ground cars slammed to a halt and the canopy popped. The irate driver was probably going to give them a piece of his mind, if not his fist.

“Father Frost! Father Frost!” There were three young children in the back compartment, totally unable to believe their eyes.

“Now we’ve done it.” By had regained his seat and leaned over to take the reins from Sela. He’d never driven a troika in his life, but at least _he’d_ seen a pony before. It couldn’t be too hard. After a few seconds he had to admit he’d made a miscalculation. “Wave, Ice Maiden,” he said, “and smile. We do not appear to be stopping.”

It really wasn’t his fault that _Good Morning VS_ had set up an outside broadcast unit in the Great Square, ready for the fireworks that evening after the Winterfair Ball, but at least by the time they got there the ponies had dropped back to a brisk trot. They appeared to have no plans on pulling up any time soon.

“Oh, what the hell. We're here now. Fancy a tour of the Great Square, Sela? We’ll make it home eventually.”

The crowds waved and cheered as they passed Shoko’s and continued on in a sweeping bend towards the elegant portals of Strelka’s. They neared the fourth side of the square and an unobtrusive ground car slipped in behind them. By could have sworn he saw the anti-missile battery on the top of his office building start to track their progress. Just before the panic really set in an athletic ImpSec sergeant timed his leap perfectly and swung up beside them.

“Restricted area, Father Frost. Are you having some trouble?”

By thrust the reins into his hands. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Sergeant. See if you can do any better. We need to get back to Voralys House. We’ve got no wish to call on the Emperor right now.”

“Sergeant Tolya at your service, Father Frost.” He’d obviously done this before and had the ponies well under control inside a hundred metres. They swept past Dorca’s statue and back out of the square, away from The Residence.

“Nothing can go wrong, he said!” By shook his fist in the approximate direction of Voralys House and bitterly contemplated his only-just-avoided gruesome fate. “Close your ears, Sergeant. I’m about to say some very harsh things about a certain count that could be construed as treason. And what the _hell_ are you laughing at?” He rounded on Sela, who was practically rolling in the footwell of the sleigh. Sela was too incoherent to answer.

“Your Ice Maiden seems to be amused, Father Frost. It’s the spirit of Winterfair, if it isn’t just the spirit.”

“We are not drunk, Sergeant, and My Ice Maiden is from Beta Colony.”

The fact seemed to answer any questions the sergeant wanted to ask. He thought about it for a few hundred metres. “Ah, that would explain it, then. And here we are sir, Voralys House coming up now. There appear to be armsmen out and about.”

“That would be the search party looking for us. Don’t pull in to the main gates, we can’t let the children see us again. Could you please take us to the stable block?”

Sergeant Tolya good naturedly drove round to the back entrance. Armsmen came jogging up from all directions as By staggered out of the sleigh. “Thank you so much, Sergeant. I’ll have Count Voralys send a commendation to your superior.”

“My pleasure, sir. This has made a change from our normal routine. _Intercepted unauthorised Father Frost. Ice Maiden incapacitated and no threat._ It should make good reading in the log.”

The ground car that had been following them pulled up to reclaim their sergeant and By waved them off.

When he turned back Sela was still sitting in the sleigh. “Can we do that again? It was brilliant. I’ve never had so much fun.”

By didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or shove it head first into his empty sack. “No, Sela, the ponies need to rest now.”

“Spoilsport.” Sela jumped down. “We should get changed and go open our presents.”

“That’s a much more sensible idea.”

They eventually made it back to the library. The adults sat around the fire but the gaggle of children had dissipated, leaving only Marie, who was trying out her new easel.

“Uncle By, you _missed_ Father Frost! You were still asleep!”

“Oh, did I? That’s no good. I probably wouldn’t have got a present from him, though, as I haven’t been very good this year.”

“Oh, you’re wrong, Uncle By. He did bring you something. I’ll show you where we put it.”

She dragged him out into the hall again and pointed to the presents. “There’s one for Sela, too.”

“And what might this be?” With a little sleight of hand he produced another gift box and held it out to her. “Happy Winterfair, Marie.”

“Is this for me? Oh, thank you. I’d better show Da. I have to tell him if anybody wants to give me a present.”

“Very wise. Come on, we’ll go show him.”

Ivan’s eyes were alight with amusement when By came over to join them all by the fire. “We’ve just been watching Father Frost on _Good Morning VS,_ By. Who’d have thought? Weren’t we lucky he visited here first?”

“Who’d have thought, _indeed_. We should discuss it later. We’ve got presents to open just now.”

Marie had opened her box. She looked at him in puzzlement. “Thank you very much, Uncle By. What is it?”

“What is it? It’s the best gizmo ever, sweetheart. It’s called a pantograph.” The look she gave him was eloquent of incredulity so he hurried to reassure her. “Honest, it is. I’d better show you.”

He set it up for her on her new easel and found a simple picture of a vase of flowers.

“So, if you want to make a big version of this picture, you put your pen here and hold it _so_ and then trace around it and it comes out over _here_ like this, see.”

“Oh, it is clever. And if I drew round the big picture, it would come out small down here.”

She’d caught on at once. “Exactly right. I knew you’d enjoy it.”

He was interrupted by Sela’s voice. “Byerly, this present is from you. I wonder what it can be?”

By sat on the arm of Sela’s chair. He was used to its antics by now. “You’ll have to open it to find out, Sela.”

The herm finally stopped stalling and opened the packaging. It sat silently for a moment. “Oh, Byerly.” It held up a new scarf, knitted quite creditably in bright violet mohair yarn. “It’s just what I wanted.”

By and Sela didn’t go to the Winterfair ball. Instead, they watched the fireworks from the top floor of Voralys House, happy to be alone in each other’s company. Sela snuggled in under By’s arm.

“My first Winterfair, and there’s still the wedding tomorrow.”

“It’s hard to believe Miles Vorkosigan ever found anyone willing to take him on. Ivan was worried about Ekaterin when he came home from dinner last night. I hope it’s just nerves and she’s not sickening for something. That would be a shame if she couldn’t enjoy her own wedding.”

“She’s a lovely lady. I hope they’ll be happy. Everyone deserves to be happy.”

By tightened his arm. “I’m happy. I had no idea I could be happy like this.”

The fireworks still lit up the sky long after they stopped noticing them.

 

Squeezed in on the last circle of witnesses By was still able to see the action at the outdoor wedding. Everything sparkled in the pale winter sun. Ivan looked magnificent dressed in his best House uniform and the bride, recovered from her nerves, was incandescent with joy. Sela had choked with laughter at Ivan’s risqué ice sculpture of rabbits, but even Aral Vorkosigan had seen the joke, _eventually_. Nothing was going to spoil the day. As they all started to file back inside a thunderous shout was taken up by the aisle of armsmen with their drawn swords.

“ _Vorkosigan! Vorkosigan! Vorkosigan_!”

“It’s just like a holovid,” Sela remarked.

By nodded. “And now that they’ve caught Louis Vorbataille at last, there’s the chance of a happy ending. We’ll have to wait and see about that though. You never know with Miles.”

“You’re so morbid, Byerly,” Sela complained. “Help me off with my coat and scarf, and we’ll go and celebrate.”

Sela had insisted on wearing its new scarf, making a bright splash of colour against its Winterfair red dress. They wandered through the hall with its imposing black and white checkerboard tiles, and were directed through the massive dining room to their seats in the antechamber beyond. The connecting doors were thrown wide open and they had a good view of the high tables. The toasting went on for quite some time, Ivan’s quips getting a few laughs from the crowd when he stood up to make his speech.

“The bridegroom told me to keep this short and sweet,” he said. “I’ll concentrate on the sweet part. Someone’s cornered the market on the other bit. I’m not allowed to tell any tall tales, either.”

When the dancing finally started they found a small table in the corner of the ballroom and watched the senior guests take to the floor after Miles and Ekaterin made the first circuit. By rattled off the Who’s Who of Barrayaran elite for Sela’s benefit. “It’s Count and Countess Vorbarra today, don’t forget. Then Count and Countess Vorkosigan, as he can’t outrank Count Vorbarra, Dono and Olivia you know, René and Tatya Vorbretten, Henri and Genevieve Vorvolk, Prime Minister Racozy and his wife—”

“Stop! I’ll never remember the half of them. And then there’s us.”

“I didn’t even get started on the Lords Auditor. We’re pretty much at the end of the pecking order, but at least we’re here to see it.”

“Who’s the enormous lady who was Ekaterin’s second?”

“Oh, yes, that’s Sergeant Taura. She worked for Miles. I’m not sure why she was second, though. We can ask if we get the chance. There’s another Betan here, too. His name’s Arde Mayhew. He’s a jump pilot.”

There was a lull for a few moments and By was startled to see Count Vorbarra’s principal armsman approach them. He’d been up close and personal with Gerard a few times, under slightly less auspicious circumstances. What did he want?

“Count Vorbarra sends his compliments. Would you please introduce him to your companion? He’s this way.”

By clutched at Sela’s hand and refused to panic. The Emperor would never choose a social occasion like this to do anything dreadful. They found him in a small antechamber off the library. He’d been glancing through an illustrated, leather bound volume before they approached. “Vorrutyer! Good to see you again.”

By bowed. “My lord count, may I present Sela Thorne, from Beta Colony? Sela, this is Count Gregor Vorbarra.”

Sela dipped into a curtsey. “Sir. I’m honoured to meet you.”

“I’ve been hearing the most excellent reports of you both from New Sheffield. My ImpSec man down there has been full of praise for your efforts on Ivan’s behalf.”

“Major Karasavas? Good heavens.” Now that was a shock. Karasavas hated him, didn’t he?

“Don’t look so surprised. Other people noticed, too. I’ll have to think of a suitable reward for a job well done.”

Oh, that was ominous. There was only one traditional reward for a job well done. “We really don’t need any rewards, do we, Sela? There’s no need to be generous, sir. It was our pleasure to help Ivan.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Count Vorbarra’s lips. “One piece of good news I can pass on. The next time you meet the Emperor, Thorne, you may address him as _sire._ ”

By grasped the significance at once. “What? Sela’s citizenship has been granted? That’s excellent news!”

“You will have to swear allegiance to a District count, of course. Vorbarra is available.”

By didn’t quite kick Sela in the shins. Half of this was going over its head. He’d have to explain later. “Quick, Sela, down on one knee. I’ll tell you what to say.”

With By and Gerard as witnesses, Sela repeated the words and laid its hands between Gregor’s.

“I do believe you are the first herm sworn directly to my service. I find myself quite happy with the idea. Congratulations.”

The audience was over and it was time to rejoin the celebrations. By and Sela backed out of the room. Count Vorbarra had one parting shot for them before they reached the door. “My countess was very amused at the vids from the Great Square yesterday morning.”

He knew, then. The disguises hadn’t been enough to give them anonymity. “I did tell Sergeant Tolya I would commend him to his superior for a job well done in saving us, Count.”

“Noted.”

“What the hell did I just do?” Sela asked once the door closed behind them, totally bewildered.

“You’re in, you’re Barrayaran and Count Vorbarra is your liege lord.” By gave it a kiss. “You get to pay taxes and buy property anywhere in Vorbarra District if you wish.”

“Thank you, I think. Do you want me to move out now?”

“Of course not, but we might look around for somewhere larger, if you’d like that.”

“As long as we keep your old apartment. We’re never going to get rid of that, Byerly. It means too much to you.”

The herm had realised then. It was right, too. By didn’t want to get rid of his first home.

 

 


	27. Love is in the air

 

 

Sela Thorne looked up from its desk as Byerly Vorrutyer came back to the office after visiting a client. By was glad to be back inside. It was freezing here in Vorbarr Sultana three days after Winterfair, much worse than New Sheffield. He started to shrug out of his greatcoat and Sela leapt up to help him.

“Guess what, Byerly, I’ve heard from Beta at last.”

“Heard what from Beta at last?”

“The Quartz Award. We’ve been accepted. Word’s got out and some people I know want to get in ahead of the rush. I’ve got four sponsors already!”

Quartz was Sela’s home town. By knew that much. He finished hanging up his greatcoat and ran his hand over the scarf he’d worn with it. Sela had made him the scarf. It was one of his favourite things. “You’d better start from the beginning. You’ve lost me.”

Sela assumed the air of someone explaining an obvious fact to a very stupid child. “I entered New Sheffield in the Quartz Award for public works of art. We won!”

“That’s great news. Won what?”

“The _Quartz Award.”_ Sela was obviously flabbergasted that By didn’t know what the Quartz Award was. "It’s fifty thousand Betan Dollars to spend on advertising and promotion for works of art that are available free to anyone who wants to see them. And that’s just the start. Every philanthropist on Beta wants to be associated with the Quartz Award, _especially_ when it’s bringing culture to benighted savages.”

“Benighted savages like Barrayarans, you mean?”

“Exactly. I’ve already got the cash transfer for four more towers. The only stipulation is the donors get to pick the colours. So far we’ve got Betan Blue, Silica Sand, Primrose, and Emerald.”

“When did you tell Ivan about this, Sela?”

The herm had the grace to look a little embarrassed. “I, er, I haven’t told him yet.”

“Oh _crap_. What if he tells you to take a wormhole jump to hell and he doesn’t want Betans being philanthropic to benighted savage Barrayarans in _his District?_ What happens then?”

“He wouldn’t, would he, not after I’ve worked so hard?”

By shook his head and reached for his greatcoat again. “I’d better go and find out, hadn’t I? At least we’ve got the sweetener of that package tour coming up. I haven’t told him about that yet, either. There’s been too much happening.”

Sela wiggled its eyebrows. “The Lord Vordagger fan club one?”

“Yes, that one. It’s all booked out. A hundred and twenty randy Betans, all about to descend on Rotherhall in search of Lord Vordagger.”

It giggled. “My, won’t that be fun? They’re coming for the almond blossom, aren’t they?”

“Among other things. We’ve got about two and a half months to be ready for them.”

“Etienne Vorinnis is going to be delighted.”

By felt an evil grin well up. “Isn’t he just? Katja Vorinnis may not be quite so thrilled. We’ll have to get a few bachelor Vor imported for the duration.”

Sela thought for a moment. “Put up a notice at OpsHQ. That should do the trick.”

“That’s an awesome idea. I can just see Ivan’s face when I suggest it to him.” Sela saw things differently. It constantly amazed him the way the herm’s mind worked. He spent the trip in the autocab trying to work out exactly what a notice at OpsHQ would say.

_Wanted single male Vor, willing to entertain Betan visitors to Voralys District. Fringe benefits may apply. One hundred and twenty vacancies._ No, better make that _one hundred vacancies._ Not all of the visitors would be female.

Nah, that was too discreet. Why not tell the truth? _One hundred and twenty randy Betans descending on Rotherhall. Free sex if you can impersonate Lord Vordagger._

It was a good job Ivan wasn’t home. It took By a good ten minutes to compose himself and stop chuckling.

When he did arrive back Ivan looked like he’d had a relapse. It had been a big strain on him, organising Father Frost and being Miles’s second and trekking off to the proof range twice. He had Elena Bothari-Jesek with him, but she disappeared before By got to do more than shake hands. Lady Alys _snaffled_ her. Ivan took By into his study and called for some refreshments.

“My word, Ivan, you look like something the cat dragged in. Have you been burning the candle at both ends? I hope you’ve got some salacious gossip to go with it.”

Ivan wasn’t impressed with him pointing out he was still not a hundred percent. “Thanks, By. If I need any salacious gossip I know exactly where to come. How is Sela? Still enjoying Barrayar?”

Ivan didn’t know about Sela’s naturalisation. Well, he didn’t have to know everything, did he?

“Shall we say its scope is blossoming? I think Sela wants to make it its life’s work to convert the heathens. It hasn’t done a bad job converting me, is all I can say. We have a scheme.”

“Uh oh. Should I be worried?”

“Not at all. Have you heard of the Quartz Award?”

“No, should I? I take it you’re referring to Sela’s home town?”

By nodded. “Yes indeed. Quartz University is famous for its liberal arts. The Quartz Award sponsors public works of art. The bigger the better. We’re nominating New Sheffield.”

He handed over the holo he’d taken of Marie’s former home, newly finished in its bright pink with white trim. “Basically we’re applying for seed money to advertise our project. A select few applicants will be allowed to choose the colour of an apartment block. They get a very tasteful plaque with their name on it.”

Ivan looked puzzled. “So how does that help, apart from the publicity of course?”

“Ah. This is the good bit. They’re allowed to become part of the project by _paying_ for the paint. They can even travel to Barrayar and help paint, if they want. Sela has lined up four donors already, without any advertising. They’re all thrilled. Betans are very big on philanthropy, and herms more than most. This, of course, is Marie’s building, but so far we’ll be having Betan blue, Primrose, Silica Sand, that’s another pale yellow, and Emerald. Give it a couple of years and the place will be a tourist drawcard on its own. All very tasteful, I assure you. The locals love it.”

By held his breath as Ivan mulled it over. He could see him come to a decision. “As long as you don’t touch Rotherhall, go for it.”

He let his breath go in a big whoosh. “Thank heavens for that. It’s already happened, Ivan. New Sheffield has won the award.” Before Ivan could complain he went on. “Speaking of Rotherhall, though, we have a hundred and twenty confirmed bookings for the almond blossom festival in the spring, and more for summer. That’s as much bed capacity as you’ve got at the moment, but we’re looking into farm stays and homestays. You have to get on to doubling that accommodation ASAP. Etienne has organised the location and the contractors. We need you to sign off on it. Oh, and pay the bill, of course.”

Discretion was the better part of valour. By didn’t mention the Lord Vordagger fan club. He’d save that good news for later and just quit while he was ahead.

He told Dono, though, later that night. Dono and Olivia thought it was hilarious.

Olivia wiped her eyes. “Oh, By, do you remember when we found out about Raine? It was at that supper at Vorkosigan House. Martya nearly wet herself, she was laughing so hard.”

“That seems like a lifetime away, now. I was mostly interested in the devilled oysters, if I remember correctly. I still have that empty bottle, too. It was the best wine I’ve ever drunk.” Reminiscing wasn’t going to get them anywhere. By brought them back to matters at hand. “You’ve only got two months to get that dungeon up and running. How’s it coming along?”

Olivia had been overseeing the development. They weren’t going to move out of Vorrutyer House completely, but had cordoned off areas for tourists to take a round-trip tour of the most gruesome parts. She’d also invested in red wax candles like By had suggested.

“Martya’s going to help organise the gift shop. She might even work there for a few weeks while we shake out all the problems. I think she needs a break from butter bugs.”

Olivia’s sister had been working with Mark Vorkosigan’s mad Escobaran. By could well imagine she’d need a break, but it was surely jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire to plunge herself into a Vorrutyer dungeon for weeks on end.

“You really need to cash in while the going’s good. The tour is only here in VS for three days, but there’s a trickle of independent travellers starting to book. Make sure you advertise at the Betan Embassy and have material at the Barrayaran Embassy on Beta, too. There’s only the one dungeon in town.”

Dono had been quiet for a while. He spoke up. “Has anyone told the Emperor about this? People could give him the wrong idea about you developing Barrayar as a sex tour destination. He could squash it all at any time.”

“I don’t see why he should. It’s perfectly legal, after all. The tour is only marketed to adults and no mention is made anywhere about sex. If they get lucky that’s entirely up to them.”

Dono shook his head. “You know Ivan was right about not blindsiding him, By. We nearly made that mistake. Don’t forget you’ve already done it once with Goff.”

By shifted uncomfortably in his seat. That memory was still raw. “You’re right, of course. Ivan should tell him.”

Dono stared him down. He sighed. “Oh, all right. I’ll see if he has time to speak to me.”

 

It was a sign of his good standing with the Emperor that By only had to wait for three days for an audience. He’d been granted ten minutes. Dono had planted the seeds of worry in his brain and he was beginning to stress about the reception he was going to get. He’d written up a succinct report explaining exactly what was going to happen and what the expectations were, but would the Emperor even read it?

Gregor Vorbarra sat behind his desk, dressed in a simple dark suit. Nothing formal happening today, then. There was a neat folder placed in front of him, but little else on the desk. “Good morning, Vorrutyer. What brings you here today?”

The Emperor sat back and tented his fingers, waiting. He gave nothing away, did he?

“Sire, I’ve been working on behalf of Voralys District, as you know, and we’re beginning to see some results. I thought you should be made aware of what’s happening.”

“There’s obviously something controversial or you wouldn’t have worried about coming here today. What is it?”

By swallowed. “There are a hundred and twenty Betans arriving shortly on a package tour, sire, spending the first night in Vorbarr Sultana, ten days in Voralys District and then three days back here again.”

“That sounds excellent. What’s the problem?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Well, sire, they’re all members of the Lord Vordagger fan club.”

“The Lord Vordagger fan club?” The Emperor sounded faintly incredulous.

“The Lord Vordagger books are written by Mademoiselle Vorfolse, sire. They’re—”

“Yes, yes, I know about the Lord Vordagger books. What I didn’t know about is the fan club.”

“Well, sire, they’re Betans. Betans are usually somewhat uninhibited, shall we say.”

“I’m sure they’ll be well briefed on what they can and can’t do whilst they’re here, but I do take your meaning.” The Emperor’s eyes twinkled. “You’re worried I’m going to be shocked?”

By nodded. “Yes, sire. I didn’t want you to get the wrong impression. Ivan has no intention of condoning sex tours.”

“Pity. Don’t worry about it, Vorrutyer. You can, however, do one thing for me, if you would?”

By was happy to get off so lightly. He was ready to promise anything. “Of course, sire.”

“Please don’t mention the Lord Vordagger fan club to the Empress.”

He had to turn his sudden bark of laughter into a cough. “Of course not, sire. She won’t hear about it from me.” He placed his report on the table. “Here are all the details. Count Vorrutyer is also hoping to, er, cash in. He’ll be opening the dungeons at Vorrutyer House.”

Did the Emperor just turn a little pale? By couldn’t be sure. Gregor had perfectly good dungeons of his own, after all. “I won’t tell the Empress about that, either, sire.”

He’d been right. The Emperor relaxed. “Thank you, Vorrutyer. We understand each other.”

By bowed and backed out. He made it to the corridor outside before he started to snigger. His escort looked at him sideways. “Something funny?”

“Oh, just something the Emperor said.”

 

Ivan and Raine were so busy planning their wedding that By and Sela took on the majority of the organisation for the visitors. Sela wrote the briefing sheets and By edited them. By organised the transport and liaised with Etienne Vorinnis. Sela worked on the itineraries. Everything they could think of was covered.

Raine did welcome the tour party at a short reception on the first night, posing for vids and signing copies of the Vordagger books. By and Ivan hovered at the edge of the melée, looking on in stunned amazement. The excitement was _intense_. Grown adults were actually squealing like teenagers.

“Why have they all got the same earring on, By?” Ivan asked.

“I think it means _actively looking_. Some of them have a twist, though. They’re actively looking for an orgy. Don’t quote me. I’d hate to be wrong.”

“Shit. Time to send in the armsmen, I think,” Ivan remarked. “Raine’s going to get absolutely mobbed in a minute.”

Fox, Harper and Walton did a bit of looming. It didn’t do much good. The Betans were a bit slow on picking up on the clues. In fact, they were probably picking up on the wrong clues, By realised. Fox looked over to Ivan for a signal, and when he got it, stamped to attention. “Stand away!”

That caused a commotion. A whole barrage of vidcameras began to flash. It wasn’t the reaction Fox had expected, obviously. He roared again. “This is _not_ a performance! Stand away! You have been warned!”

With Fox in front of her and Harper and Walton on either side Raine finally got a bit of space. By had to bite his lip. Ivan looked ever so slightly appalled. “By, are these people… _excited_ by my armsmen?”

It was no good. He couldn’t keep a straight face any more. His shoulders started to heave as he cracked up. “If they don’t get lucky tonight it’s never going to happen. Ivan, what have you _done_?”

“Me?” Ivan’s indignation bubbled out. “It’s not my fault! _I_ didn’t do it. I’m just an innocent bystander. My men are never going to get out alive. These people are…are lascivious! _Do_ something, By!”

“You hypocrite! A year ago you would have thought all your Winterfairs had come at once, and now you’re full of moral indignation.”

Ivan didn’t find it funny. “That was then and this is now. I mean it, By, do something!”

By had come prepared. He pulled a whistle out of his pocket and blew it, hard. The cacophony quietened down to a dull roar. “Please observe the cultural requirement for personal space. Remember not to cause offence.” It worked, sort of. “Form an orderly queue if you would like an autograph. You are most welcome to approach the Barrayaran Lady, but one at a time, please.”

By watched a gorgeous blonde-haired woman who looked to be about thirty standard or so run her hand up Harper’s chest and whisper in his ear. She’d already got her autograph and her attention had been well and truly diverted. The armsman’s eyes just about popped out of his head.

By elbowed Ivan in the ribs. “Go save your man from a fate worse than death, unless he’s prepared to take one for the team, of course.”

They should have had another briefing sheet, not for the Betans but on the subject of how to _survive_ them.

The visitors were big spenders. Once their initial hysteria was over they settled down to enjoy themselves in Rotherhall. Dono also reported a very successful opening at Vorrutyer House, too. It wouldn’t take long for the numbers to build up, once this group started spreading the word. Sela joined the Lord Vordagger chat rooms to spy for them. They were humming, especially when one enterprising soul discovered the Imperial Engineers were still stationed in Prestwich.

 

Who ever thought it would be relaxing, making the final preparations for a wedding? Even the onerous security requirements for Count and Countess Vorbarra’s attendance seemed like a piece of cake after the frenetic two weeks of the Betan Invasion. The day before it was all due to happen By took Sela out to the almond orchard for one last check. Everything was under control. The place looked an absolute picture, a thick carpet of pale pink petals underfoot, with more drifting down to join them each time the breeze fluctuated. Tiny green buds were coating the trees in soft veils, fleshing out the skeletons of the branches. The blue of the sky was marred by only a few wisps of high cloud. Ivan and his party were staying with Farmer Eccles overnight, much to the man’s speechless delight at the honour, and Raine had arrived at the _Black Sheep._ The tables and dance floor were set up under huge marquees in the hay paddock, where the grass was still short.

By put the last tick on his list. Time to hand over to ImpSec. There was nothing more he could do. DoubleVee Aesthetica’s wedding planning division had put it all together perfectly. It was time to relax. They strolled back to the transport together, hand in hand.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Sela,” By said. “I think we make a good team.”

Sela squeezed his fingers, serious for once. “I’m so lucky I found you, Byerly. It’s strange how fate works out, sometimes.”

The peace didn’t last very long. Back in Rotherhall half the population seemed to be running around like chickens with their heads chopped off. The underlying mood sizzled with excited anticipation. Even Etienne Vorinnis had a smile on his face when he met them near the Town Hall. He shook By’s hand. “I’m glad I found you, Vorrutyer. I think I need to apologise. You’ve proven me wrong in my assumptions and I’m sorry.”

It was a handsome apology. By was happy to accept it. “Perhaps once we get Ivan shackled we can have a drink together and debrief.”

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea. I can’t stop now, there’s a shuttle with a faulty injector I need to chase up. Good day, Vorrutyer.” He bowed to Sela and hurried off. He was a busy man, in charge of all the transport, among other things.

“You can close your mouth now,” Sela said. “I’m so glad I won’t have to scratch his eyes out after all.”

“You just never say never, do you?” By watched the retreating figure of the major. “I just need Philip Nicolaides to say a kind word and my cup will be overflowing.”

 

A huge Imperial shuttle, distinctive in black with a flash of silver from the nose highlighting the rose and olive branch sigil on the tail fin, roared overhead to land in the hay paddock. By held his breath but he’d been right. Landing the shuttle where it did prevented the remaining almond blossom being blown off the branches. There was still plenty to fall like confetti.

Ivan waited in the groat circle under the trees. Miles Vorkosigan had been talking non-stop, which was nothing new, but he’d done his job and kept Ivan composed. With Count and Countess Vorbarra in place, everything was ready. Lady Alys and Simon Illyan stood so proud and happy on the first star points. Wally and Aceline would be there alongside Miles and the last place was ready for Ekaterin.

Vicereine Cordelia Vorkosigan in her most unaccustomed role as coach led out the bridal party and Marie in her pink dress carried a basket of almond flower petals almost as big as she was, strewing handfuls onto the ground and into the air as she walked along. Wally looked to be dying of pride as he held Raine on his arm.

By loved her outfit. Long, dark hair trailed almost to her knees, bound with white flowers and silver ribbons. Her silver dress was embroidered with darkest blue acorns and oak leaves in a flaring sweep from shoulder to hem.

Everyone held their breath as Ivan held out his hand and together they stepped into the centre. Miles and Ekaterin bent to pour their bags of groats to close the circle. Ivan was almost word-perfect, stumbling only slightly as he nearly forgot to add Voralys to his name. Valeraine Amelie Vorfolse became Valeraine Amelie Vorfolse Voralys, and it was done.

Miles swept away the groats with a practised flourish. Raine bent for his kiss and Ekaterin hugged Ivan tightly before releasing him to the crowd of well-wishers. Simon wrung his hand. By started to move in to congratulate them, but Ivan had something to say. “There’s a perfectly good groat circle here, Simon. Shame to not get full use out of it.”

There was a gasp as everyone stared at Lady Alys.

Count Vorbarra stepped forward. “I’ve never had the chance to be anyone’s Second, Simon. It would be a great honour.”

Was it really going to happen? Countess Vorkosigan walked over to stand beside Lady Alys and Countess Vorbarra nipped in to take the vacant role. “Please may I be coach?”

It was like watching a flower bloom in slow motion as Simon Illyan invited his lover into the groat circle. Sela clutched at By’s arm in an agony of suspense.

Lady Alys Vorpatril vacated her point on the star. Ivan took her place and Raine stood where Simon had been.

Miles Vorkosigan had rushed off to find some more groats. As everyone around them changed places Gregor and Cordelia hurried to close the centre.

Laisa invited Simon to start. He held Alys’s hands. “I, Simon Illyan—”

“Sorry, that’s wrong.” Everyone gaped at Gregor. Was he going to stop it after all? By needn’t have worried as the Emperor continued. “We’ll have the patents drawn up later. By Our decree, in front of these witnesses, from this day henceforth, Our trusty and faithful vassal Simon Illyan will be raised to the ranks of the Vor and be known as Simon Vorillyan.”

By explained what was going on to Sela in a quiet whisper. “See how he changed to the Imperial _We_? He’s speaking as the Emperor now.”

Madame Alys Vorillyan and her husband followed the Count and new Countess Voralys back through the guard of armsmen. There were only ten of them, but the shout was taken up by Pym, Gerard and all the other armsmen present.

“Voralys! Voralys! Voralys!”

His job was done. By let all the others follow the precession back to the marquees. He could join them in a moment. Apart from the most unexpected change in events everything had gone off according to plan. He scooped up some of the groats and let them run through his fingers. “Did you enjoy that, Sela?”

The herm looked at him. “It was wonderful, wasn’t it, but what do those armsmen want, do you think? They look serious.”

By jerked his head around. Gerard was there, and the Vorkosigan’s Pym, followed by Fox, Harper and Walton. Dono’s man Szabo made up the numbers. Six of them. Gerard had something behind his back.

“What’s going on, Byerly?” Sela whispered.

“I don’t know. I can’t think of _anything_ I’ve done wrong.” Bewildered, By waited for the men to say something.

“Count Vorbarra’s compliments, your honour, and sir. He says two is an unlucky number and three is much more auspicious.”

By had no idea what he was on about. “I beg your pardon?”

Fox nodded in agreement. “Count Voralys did say _There’s a perfectly good groat circle here. Shame to not get full use out of it.”_

Before By could open his mouth again Pym spoke up. “There’s no rule to say the Coach has to be female.”

“And there’s no rule to prevent a wedding. Barrayaran law only states that marriage is not legal between people of the same gender.” That was Szabo, who had moved to stand at By’s side.

Gerard brought his hands out from behind his back. He was carrying a bag of groats. Szabo produced another one from his pocket. The armsmen moved to stand on the star points. It was practically Emperor’s orders. Who was By to refuse to obey them? He thought his heart was going to leap out of his throat as his pulse started hammering.

“Sela Thorne, will you marry me?”

He’d never seen Sela look so beautiful. The herm bit its lip. “Byerly, it would be my greatest honour to marry you.”

Gerard and Szabo hurried to close the circle. Harper and Walton obliged with handfuls of almond petal confetti.

By and Sela gazed into each other’s eyes. “I, Byerly Pierre Vorrutyer…”

 

 

The End

 


End file.
